


if this is a rom-com (kill the director)

by theroyalmilktea



Category: Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02, Digimon Adventure tri.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Romance, Slice of Life, Tokyo (City)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24988813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroyalmilktea/pseuds/theroyalmilktea
Summary: Sora does not have a 'thing' for the blonde barista, contrary to what Mimi says.It's just that sometimes, in between managing her coursework at Bunka Fashion College, healing from her first heartbreak, and trying to get over the crushing self-doubt she feels, she likes to get coffee.Is the coffee better when he makes it? Yes. Is he hard on the eyes? No. In fact, would she say that he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen? Also yes. Did she sometimes visit more frequently in hopes of him being there? Yes again. But did this mean she had a 'thing' for him?Honestly, probably. But she wasn't going to let Mimi know that.
Relationships: Inoue Miyako | Yolei Inoue/Izumi Koushirou | Izzy Izumi, Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida/Takenouchi Sora, Kido Jou | Joe Kido/Takenouchi Sora, Tachikawa Mimi/Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya
Comments: 40
Kudos: 62





	1. I've met someone who makes me feel seasick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first piece I have written for this fandom in 13 years. It's also the first fictional piece I've finished since 2015, but everything about 2020 has driven me to feel like my only comfort would be writing a Sorato coffee shop AU. Needless to say, posting it is more nerve-wracking than any presenting any of the work I do in my day job. So here goes! Thanks to Annalia for beta-ing.

“Hey,” Sora brought her coffee up to her mouth, taking a sip. “Do you guys want to go see a movie after this?”

Across from her, Taichi scrunched his nose. “I don’t knowwww,” he said lazily, drawing out the sentence. He stretched, resting his arm along the back of Mimi’s chair. “Where’s the closest movie theatre from here?”

Setting down her cup, Sora lifted her phone, opening up Google maps. “I’m not sure. Probably Shibuya?” 

“Ugh,” Taichi groaned, letting his head fall back. “That means we have to get on the Loop Line.”

Furrowing her brow, Sora peered over her phone. “You’re going to have to get on the Loop Line at some point to get home, Taichi.”

“Okay, let me rephrase; that means I’ll have to get off the Loop Line at Shibuya Station and the list of things I would rather do on a Friday night is pretty huge.”

Ignoring him, Sora turned her attention to Mimi, who was seated under Taichi’s arm, typing away at her own phone. “What do you think, Mimi? Do you want to go see a movie?”

“Ehnnn,” Mimi drawled, just as long an obnoxious as her boyfriend. “Since we’re in the neighborhood, I wouldn’t mind going to the Line Friends Store. There’s a new BT21 line out and if I don’t get my hands on the RJ plush, I’ll be devastated.”

Sora rolled her eyes. “So devastated that you only brought it up now?”

“Well, yeah,” Mimi said, placing her phone on the table. She reached her hand up and laced her fingers through Taichi’s, which were now hanging over her shoulder. “I mean, you’re the one who wanted to meet for coffee in Omotesando. I might as well take advantage of it.”

Lifting his own coffee cup to his mouth, Taichi surveyed the area. “We always come here, despite the fact that none of us really live any close,” he said before taking a drink. “Why do we always come here?”

A bell rang on Mimi’s phone. She shrugged, dropping her hand from Taichi’s. “I don’t know,” she said, sliding open her phone and tapping away. “Sora chose it.”

Taichi turned to his friend. “Do you have a reason for selecting this particular coffee shop, Sora, even though it requires us getting on the godforsaken Loop Line?”

Instead of rolling her eyes again, Sora just smiled. “I like the atmosphere. It’s calm here, and it’s nice to be tucked away in the backstreets as opposed to being somewhere along Omotesando Hills. It’s like we’re just on the edge of chaos,” her smile turned to a grin and she lifted her mug again. The coffee, as always, was delicious. “Not to mention — the product’s good.”

“I won’t deny that,” Taichi agreed, “I just wish it were somewhere more convenient.”

At this, Sora scoffed. “You have to get on the Loop Line to get around Tokyo, Taichi,” she said, “it’s part of living here.”

“Details, details,” he waved his hand up and down nonchalantly. “Did you want to play tennis on Sunday, Sora? I was thinking of booking some time at the courts at Yoyogi-Nishihara Park if you’re game.”

Sora grinned, excited. She hadn’t played tennis in a while. “Sure!” she said enthusiastically, “do you think we’ll be able to get court time this late though?”

Setting down his coffee, Taichi picked up his phone. “That’s a good point, I’ll—”

“Oh my _god_!” Mimi exclaimed, loudly, cutting him off “Oh my _god_ , BTS is playing Tokyo Dome in December! For three nights!” 

Taichi blanched slightly. “Three nights? And I assume you’ll want to go to all of them?” he asked nervously. “I guess I better practice the fan chant.”

“It’s not that hard!” Mimi swung around to face her boyfriend. “It’s just their names! You got it last time!”  
  
Sora chuckled into her coffee. Taichi’s ability to muster up support and enthusiasm for Mimi’s interests never failed to amuse her.  
  
“Say it with me!” Mimi began, grabbing Taichi’s arm and waving it in the air. “Kim Namjoon! Kim Seokjin! Min Yoongi! Come on, you know the rest!” 

Body bobbing awkwardly in his chair, Taichi laughed, still nervously. “Uhh, Jung Hoseok?” 

“That’s right!” Mimi exclaimed, dropping his arm. “Oh, you’re the best. Just the best, _best_ boyfriend!”

Swooping down, she flung her arms around him, knocking the table in the process, sending what was rest of her iced latte all over the table. 

“Ahh!” Mimi yelped, standing up abruptly and grabbing her phone, “oh shoot!!” Sora grabbed her own phone off the table, rising as well so no coffee would end up on her pants.  
  
Taichi jumped up, springing into action. “I’ll grab some napkins. Is your phone okay?”

Mimi turned it over in her hands. “It’s fine!” she said quickly, “but the coffee is getting everywhere.”

“Okay, I’m on it,” Taichi darted around the side of the table and stopped abruptly. “Wait, where are the napkins?”

Sora pressed a hand to her forehead. “Taichi, we’ve been here how many times and you don’t know where the napkins are?”

“Well, we’ve never spilled almost a _whole coffee_ before, Sora!” Taichi said, exasperated. “Sorry I’ve never had a need to memorize these things!”

“It’s not like I meant to spill the coffee!” Mimi cried, “it was an accident!”

Taichi turned to his girlfriend, eyes wide. “What? I never said you did it on purpose!”

"But you _implied_ it!"

“Um, guys?!” Sora interrupted. The coffee was now dripping on the floor. “The napkins?!”

“Oh, right, I’ll go get them!” Taichi shook his head, before turning and abruptly colliding with a person walking towards them. 

Sora winced. This was a chaotic mess. 

“Ah, sorry, man!” Taichi bowed. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. A little bit of a spill here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” a deep voice responded. “It happens. We heard the commotion at the counter — I brought napkins.” He held out a large stack of paper napkins.

Glancing past Taichi, Sora felt her stomach drop to the floor. Standing there was the tall, lanky blonde barista. The one with the striking blue eyes and tattoo on his forearm. Their eyes met. 

She felt her cheeks get hot.  
  
“Ah, thanks man,” Taichi said gratefully, taking the napkins from him and turning to wipe up the mess. “Really appreciate it.”

“You’re a lifesaver!” Mimi said to the barista. 

The barista shook his head. “Just doing my job.” 

“Even so!” Mimi continued, “we were all panicking! I spilled half my drink!”

The barista nodded. “Would you like another one?”

Mimi’s cheeks turned slightly pink. “Oh,” she squeaked, holding her phone tightly to her chest. “Oh, no, please don’t go to that trouble. It was my own fault. My boyfriend made me spill it.”

“What?” Taichi said from below, where he was cleaning up the spilled coffee on the floor. “I did not cause you to spill it!”

“You did!” Mimi smiled, “but only because you were being so cute!” 

“It’s really no trouble,” the blonde said. If he was growing tired of the scene in front of him, he gave no real indication of it. “It won’t take long.”

Taichi rose from the floor, bringing a clump of used napkins with him. “Seriously, do not worry about it, man. We’ll pay for it!” He clapped the barista on the shoulder. “I’ll throw these out and Mi, I’ll get you another drink. Iced almond milk latte with two shots hazelnut, one shot caramel, right?”

Mimi smiled brightly. “Yes please.”

“Sounds good,” Taichi gave her a wink. He scooped up the rest of the napkins and headed towards the counter. 

As the barista turned to leave, he glanced at Sora. “Hey,” he said with a nod, “it’s been a while.”

Sora’s cheeks lit on fire. “It has,” she agreed shyly, “sorry for all the commotion.” 

“Nah,” the boy waved his hand. “I just got here - a little commotion is exactly what you need at the beginning of a shift.”

Sora laughed awkwardly. God, this was so embarrassing.. “Glad we could be of some entertainment.”

Nodding again, he lifted one hand in a short wave. “See you.”

“See you,” Sora said, lifting her own hand quickly before dropping it. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Turning in her seat, she tucked her hair behind her ear and willed herself to calm down. 

Looking across the table, she was met with the stare of Mimi, an astonished look on her face. She swallowed. 

“What?” she asked, nervously.

“Oh my god,” Mimi sat back down in her seat, scooting her chair forward. “Oh my god, you’re into that barista!” 

Sora tried to twist her face into a shocked expression. “What? No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are!” Mimi said, pointing a finger in Sora’s face. “Your face is as bright as my pink hair, Sora! The moment he came over here, you lit up like a Christmas tree! You are totally into the barista!”

“Shh!” Sora hissed, leaning forward. “Keep your voice down. I am not into the barista.”

Mimi folded her arms, hitting Sora with a sly look. “You absolutely are. You guys were so friendly. Do you know each other?”

“No,” Sora shook her head. “I just see him here sometimes and we chat a bit. It’s the result of being a regular. I don’t even know his name.”

Taichi slid into his seat next to Mimi, “Know whose name?” he asked, placing the drink in front of Mimi, along with a small plate containing a cookie. “They were out of caramel syrup, so to compensate, I got you a cookie.”

Mimi smiled brightly, leaning over and looping her arm through Taichi’s. “Thank you, baby,” she said sweetly. “That was very sweet of you. Anyway, Sora doesn’t know the name of the barista she is in love with.”

Taichi turned to look at Sora, bewildered. “You’re in love with the barista? The one who was just here?”

“No!” Sora quickly. “I just see him here sometimes and we chat. Casual stuff, like any regular customer.”

“I know you were too busy cleaning up the coffee to notice, Taichi, but you should have seen her face when he walked over — completely pink,” Mimi simpered. “That’s why you always want to come here, even though it’s so far out of the way and they don’t even have oat milk.”

“Wait,” Taichi frowned. “We come all the way out here cause Sora’s in love with that barista. Is it cause he’s in that band?”

Sora felt frantic. “I’m not in love with the barista and it’s really not that far and — wait, what? He’s in a band?”

Taichi nodded. “Yeah, a rock band. They play a set at Liveholic in Shimokitazawa sometimes. Mimi and I have seen them play, right, Mi? I recognized him weeks ago.”

Mimi furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, he does look familiar. I never put two and two together. Was he the one who played bass? In that band with the weird name?"

“Yeah,” Taichi agreed. “What was it? Knife of Kamen? Knife of Ramen?”

Mimi shook her head. “I think it was called Knife of Night?” 

“Maybe?” Taichi said. “They’re pretty good though. I can’t believe you didn’t notice, Mi.”

Grinning, Mimi tapped him on the shoulder. “You know I only have eyes for you, Taichi.”

Taichi laughed. “Then what’s your obsession with BTS about then?”

“That’s different,” Mimi waved her hand. “But this all makes so much sense now. We come here so Sora can check out the barista.”

“No,” Sora said, annoyed now. “I like it here. That’s the only reason why. I do not have a thing for the barista and you guys assuming that based off of the two seconds of interaction I had with him is ridiculous. Now,” she blew a strand of hair out of her face, “are we seeing a movie after this or not?”

Taichi and Mimi exchanged a glance, having a silent secret conversation that Sora couldn’t decode. They turned their attention back towards her.  
  
“Thinking not,” Taichi said. “I’m not dealing with those crowds to get there. Plus Mimi wants to go get that DJ plush.”

“RJ!” 

“Sure,” Taichi stuck his tongue out. “We should figure out tennis, though.”

Sora sighed. “Okay,” she agreed, deciding it was better to not argue; after all, she had just gotten them off of the barista talk. “Let’s check online if there are any spots left. Did you guys want to do anything after this, though, or just head home?”  
  
Taichi put a finger to his lips, thinking. “Let’s get gyoza at that place around the corner.”

“Really?” Sora asked, surprised. “But we’d have to line up.”

“It moves fast,” Taichi said, “it’s also cheap as hell and delicious. What do you say, Mimi? Gyoza?”

“Sure, if you’re buying!” 

At this, Sora grinned. “Well, if Taichi’s buying, I’m in!” 

Taichi groaned.

After Mimi finished her coffee, the trio gathered their things, and made their way out of the coffee shop. 

Sora did not look back. 

x x x

As usual, Taichi and Mimi had it all wrong. Sora didn’t have a thing for the blonde barista.  
  
After all, didn’t having a crush on someone require you to actually know them? Feelings, as far as Sora understood, were cultivated and developed through time spent with someone and finding things in them that you admired and enjoyed. Given that the sum of her interactions with said barista were probably limited to half an hour, total, she could comfortably say that she did not have a ‘thing for him’, as Mimi so eloquently put it. 

_Oh, who was she kidding_? Sora admitted to herself, aggravated. Running her pencil across her sketchbook, she let out a sigh. She definitely had at least a tiny thing for him. Her countless trips to his workplace in a bid to look at his stupidly good looking face and maybe, just _maybe_ , muster up the courage to ask his name could attest to that. 

_"Yikes,_ ” Sora thought, “ _when you put it like that, I just sound like a crazy stalker.”_ _  
  
_It was really only a matter of time before Mimi noticed (though Taichi would probably have remained oblivious for potentially ever). Omotesando really was not particularly close to where any of them lived and while Sora attended school in Shinjuku, it still meant a 40 minute walk, which was not terribly convenient. Not to mention, the sheer amount of cafes along that 40 minute walk somehow made it even more unjustifiable — there really was no reason to go out of her way. 

And yet, every time she found herself craving a cup of coffee or needing a space to work on some school assignments, she found herself making her way up the steep hills of Omotesando. The comfortable ambiance of the cafe and the delicious coffee they made were a huge part of it, as Sora felt productive and relaxed there, but she would be lying if she didn’t go knowing that there was a chance she might also see the gorgeous blonde barista behind the bar. 

She hadn’t even been aware of the coffee shop until three months ago, and stumbling upon it had been a complete accident. 

It was a Tuesday afternoon, and one where Sora was feeling more burnt out than she possibly ever had, exhausted and plagued with self-doubt. Her third year at Bunka Fashion College was proving to be more demanding that she had anticipated, and in between thoughts of dropping out and cursing herself for not taking the two-year program, Sora knew something had to give. Feeling blocked artistically and creatively was not doing anything to help her schoolwork, so in a moment of motivation, she hopped on the train after class and headed to Harajuku in search of some inspiration. 

Much to her dismay, said inspiration was not found in the crowds along Takeshita-dori, nor was it found on any floor in La Foret, despite how much she had gravitated towards both of these places in her high school years. Even her secret weapon — window shopping in the luxury stores in Omotesando Hills — did nothing for her.

To say that she was feeling overwhelmed would be an understatement. If she was being honest, it wasn’t just her third year at Bunka that was harder than she had expected - it was the whole course. Attending Bunka had put a stress on her creativity that she had never experienced, making her question her abilities and skills. Not to mention, the course load was incredibly hard to manage, even though she didn’t have a part time job.  
  
The whole experience was making Sora feel terribly inadequate.

The longer she found she was struggling with school, the more Sora couldn’t help but think maybe it would have been better if she had kept fashion just a hobby. In high school, she had enjoyed making clothing in her spare time and dressing up her friends, but it hadn’t been her whole life. She had been active in sports, a key member of the girls tennis club and she often played soccer with Taichi and Koushiro on the weekends. She loved reading and literature, too. Maybe trying to turn this passion into some kind of career wasn’t really worth it.

It didn’t help that her parents weren’t particularly supportive. Sure, they claimed to want to let Sora pursue any path she wanted, but she knew deep down that both of her parents found the art of fashion superficial. Her father, a historical researcher and professor at Kyoto University, didn’t have to say much to imply that he thought that there was more merit in studying something more academic. Her mother, an iemoto of an ikebana school, also made it no secret that she wished Sora would take on the practice of ikebana full time — and eventually take over the family practice as was expected.

But when it came time to choose a school, they relented and told Sora to go with what made her happy, and despite loving sports, literature, and ikebana, she decided to accept an offer to Bunka. 

At the time, it seemed to be the perfect fit, and even her parents' apprehension couldn’t dissuade her. Sora wanted to create things that could bring a smile to people’s faces. Things that would help boost their confidence, that would be a little bit of their own personal expression, their own personal pieces of art. What was more rewarding than creating the very garments people lived their lives in?

(Taking on the family business, if you asked her mother. Possibly _literally anything_ else if you asked her father. )

But as she got older and the path to success became more bumpy, it became more difficult for Sora not to compare herself to not only to her classmates, but also to her friends; she couldn’t help but feel that everyone was doing something more important than her. Taichi, for all his lazy bravado and inability to be on time, was studying political science, with hopes of being a diplomat that would deal with foreign policy. Mimi completed an accelerated business course the year prior and had been successfully running an online shop since before she graduated. Not to mention, their friend Koushiro was a certifiable genius, and her ex-boyfriend, Jyou, was pre-med. 

Sora winced at the thought of him. Of course comparing herself to Jyou, whose vocation was so noble, would make her feel superficial. What was making people smile when there were people like Jyou trying to save and better lives? 

She shoved the thought from her head. Like most things related to Jyou, she tried not to think about them. 

Needless to say, it was this melancholy that drove her to wander around the back streets of Omotesando instead of heading home, the resources in Harajuku depleted. Even if Omotesando had nothing to offer, maybe she could find a new boutique or a place to eat dinner. 

Or maybe she would find that nothing anywhere was inspiration. Maybe she would find that she really did need to quit. Maybe she needed a fresh start. 

Dragging her feet down the street, she surveyed her surroundings. Where was she? She wasn’t familiar with these particular streets of Omotesando, often never walking too far into the neighborhood as the hills got steeper and steeper. Usually it was a quick trip to Eddy’s Ice Cream, a quick dash into Honey Mi Honey, and she was out. 

Glancing around, her eyes fell on a grey building with a black chalkboard sign in front of it. Written hastily in chalk was a series of seasonal coffee drinks listed. Sora felt herself perk up. 

Maybe what she _really_ needed was coffee. 

Making a beeline for the building, Sora stepped inside. 

The smell of espresso hit her nostrils and the sound of soft jazz music hit her ears, both sensations pleasing to her tired self. The floors and counter were made of concrete, the walls white, and industrial lighting hung from the ceilings. In the center of the room was a large communal table, where a handful of people sat sipping on coffee and hurriedly typing away on their laptops. Against the walls were benches and tables where friends sat gathered, talking animatedly. The walls were covered in a series of bright artwork. It was, Sora observed, a nice little place. 

“ _I wonder how their latte is_ ,” Sora thought as she made her way in. “ _But should I try the latte when I have never been here before, though_?”

While she wouldn’t necessarily call herself a connoisseur, Sora felt she knew her way around a good cup of coffee, but she _especially_ knew her way around a good latte. The mark of a good coffee shop, Sora felt, was evident in how their baristas were trained to make their lattes. If the espresso was slightly bitter or the milk just a little bit too foamy, the whole thing would feel off and tasteless. If the barista put too much milk in in a bid to make some extravagant artwork in the foam, then the whole thing might as well have been a cup of steamed milk. 

Ordering a latte during your first visit was a bold move in Sora’s opinion, a risky one, but one that would determine whether she would be back for future visits. If it was bad, she wouldn’t return. If it was good, or had potential, she would. Maybe a cold brew coffee would be a better choice. Muling over her options, Sora made her way to the front counter. 

“Hi,” a chipper girl greeted Sora as she approached the counter. She had long black hair in a dark ponytail and was wearing a simple white tee, along with gold jewelry. The counter she stood at was long, wrapping around the length of the room, and outfitted with a pastry case and several more glass domes holding cookies and biscotti. She smiled brightly. “What can I get started for you?”

Sora smiled, stepping forward slightly. She was going to go for it — she was going to order the latte. “Could I have a regular latte please?” she asked, pulling out her wallet. 

The girl nodded, punching Sora’s request into the register. “Sure thing. What kind of milk would you like with that? Whole, soy, or almond?” 

Sora paused for a moment. Whole milk was too easy to control. Better go for something non-dairy. “Soy milk sounds good.”

“You got it. What’s your name for the order?”

“Sora.”

“Great, thank you!” the girl grinned brightly. She was sure friendly, Sora thought, her peppiness reminding her slightly of Mimi. “That comes to 625 yen, please.”

_A little on the pricier side for a latte_ , Sora mused as she swiped her card. Hopefully it was worth it. Wrapping up her transaction, the peppy girl motioned to the side of the counter, letting Sora know that her drink would be ready there in a moment. 

Making her way over to the end of the counter, Sora felt tired. As much of a boost that the thrill of testing a new cafe had momentarily given her, the weight of the day was still heavy on her shoulders. She would get her coffee, take a moment to sit down and drink it, and then she would head home and think about her life and what she was going to do. What had she been thinking anyway, coming to this part of the town for inspiration? She should have gone somewhere else - Ginza for the real high end stuff or Shimokitazawa for the vintage shops. Not Harajuku. 

How cliched. No wonder she was struggling.

_I wonder what mom and dad would say if I called them this evening and told them I was dropping out_ , Sora thought to herself. _Would they be happy? Or would they be even more angry that now, I have to start all over again?_

“Soy latte for Sora-sama!” a deep voice called out, knocking Sora out of her thoughts. She jumped, deep into imagining the sound of her mother’s disappointed voice. 

“Yes, that’s me!” she shook her head and approached the counter, watching as someone moved to slide her latte across the counter. “Thank you, I—”

She froze as her eyes met the barista’s. She felt her breath get knocked out of her.

The barista was the single most beautiful man she had ever seen. 

In a quick glance, she clocked his appearance. He was tall, definitely a few inches taller than Jyou, but maybe even a couple taller than Taichi. He had messy blonde hair, the length on the longer side. Behind tortoise shell glances were sparkling blue eyes - a blue that she had never seen naturally in a Japanese man. Were they contacts? Or was he half-Japanese? His features did look slightly European, his skin on the paler side. He stared at her, inquisitively, hand still perched on the rim of the saucer holding her latte. 

She felt her heart pound looking at him. He was overwhelmingly gorgeous.

“I—” she swallowed, trying to find her voice, “um, wow.”

The man blinked, confused and glanced to the side, confused. “I’m sorry?”

_Oh my god_ , Sora thought, _what is wrong with you? You look like an idiot. Why can’t you keep your cool around_ **_anyone_ ** _remotely attractive_ ? Feeling the heat creeping up her neck, Sora laughed, her voice absolutely giving away her nervousness. How did she get out of this? She was not the type to casually hit on someone, especially someone working.  
  
Glancing around, she scrambled to find something to use for an explanation. The espresso machine? Could she compliment that? No, she decided, it was black and nondescript. Looking down, her eyes fell on the latte he was still holding; in its foam were a series of intricate, sharp, and precise leaves. 

_That was it_ , she thought, and she must act _now_.

“Sorry, it’s just — _wow_!” she said quickly, hands reaching out to take the cup from him. “This latte art is beautiful!” Her heart was beating so loudly by this point that she could hear it in her ears. “You don’t really see leaves this precise that often!” 

Looking at it closer, Sora realized she wasn’t really exaggerating — the leaves really were well done. Which could mean there was far too much milk in this, making it a mediocre latte. She looked back up at the man and felt her heart pick up quickly. It probably was mediocre - the chances of someone being that good looking and able to make a good latte were slim.

The man wore a surprised expression on his face, and he cleared his throat awkwardly before responding. “Oh,” he nodded, “thank you.”

“It must be pretty tricky to do,” Sora said, picking up her latte, internally wincing. Why was she _still talking_? Why was she doubling down? Just walk away! “Getting leaves that sharp. Do you use a lot of milk?”

“It’s not too complicated,” The man shrugged, lifting his arm as he rubbed his neck, seemingly bashful. A flash of a tattoo on his forearm caught her eye, though she couldn’t make it out, and she swallowed once more. Oh god, he was tattooed. While lots of students at Bunka had tattoos, it was still a rare sight. “I wouldn’t say I use any more milk than normal, but I don’t know for sure.” 

Sora smiled awkwardly. She had to get out of this conversation before she made it worse, but she still had to make it seem genuine. One more closing statement. “Must have lots of practice then,” she said quickly. “It’s beautiful, regardless!”

The man nodded, bowing slightly. “Thanks. Enjoy your drink.”

“No problem!” Sora said quickly, still smiling. She had saved it, but barely. Now was time to make a quick exit. “Thanks!” 

She spun on her heel as fast as holding a hot beverage would allow and her face dropped immediately as she was out of his sight. 

What the _hell_ was that? 

Scurrying away, Sora quickly located a seat at the benches along the wall and sat down. Why was she absolutely incapable of keeping her cool just then? Sure, she had always had a bit of difficulty communicating with attractive boys, but this was next level. Surely he wasn’t so beautiful that she had all of her wits knocked out of her. She must have just been surprised. 

Darting a glance over her shoulder, Sora’s eyes fell on the man once more. He was standing at the espresso machine, bent over it as he concentrated on his work. A lock of blonde hair fell into his eyes. 

Sora quickly turned around, her face feeling hotter. Okay, no, he was definitely that beautiful. He was absolutely the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. 

She glanced down at her latte, trying to compose herself. The leaves that had been so exact moments earlier were smudging at the sides a little bit, their perfect form losing shape the longer they sat. Sora quirked her mouth to the side. 

It probably was too much milk, she sighed as she picked up the cup and brought it to her mouth, meaning that she wouldn’t be back for a couple of reasons: the first being that she had made a near fool out of herself and the second being that the coffee wasn’t any good. 

Lifting her cup to her lips, Sora took a sip. The moment of truth.

Damnit. It was delicious.

Nothing in the drink had been lost with the amount of milk required for the intricate latte art. It was perfect — one of the best lattes she had ever had — the exact balance between espresso and milk that Sora loved. 

Okay, she let out a breath. This was a really good latte. Such a good latte, that she would have to come back at some point, if only to have it again. She wondered if it was such a good latte cause of how the barista prepared it or if the quality was the same across the board. 

Well, I guess I’ll have to find out, she thought, lifting her cup and taking another sip. Plus, now she knew that the most attractive man in the world worked there, she wouldn’t be so surprised the next time she was there, saving herself any future embarrassment. 

So she vowed to return. 

And return she did, Sora thought to herself three months later as she closed up her sketchbook. So many times, in fact, that she had become something of a regular, and from there, her attraction to the barista had only grown. 

Groaning to herself, Sora folded her arms and rested her head on the table in front of her. Class had ended almost two hours ago, but Sora still sat in the empty studio, her head swarming with thoughts of the blonde barista and all of their encounters over the past few months. God, she really had been there so many times. Would he have noticed? 

Sighing to herself, Sora rolled over various interactions they had had in her head. It was time to analyze them to death. Had they seemed strange? 

Like the first time she went there with Taichi and Mimi, for example. Had that been weird?

x x x  
  
_Three months earlier_

“Sora,” Mimi’s voice had drawled out on the other end of the phone. “I haven’t seen you in ages. I miss your face.”

Sora laughed, stepping out of the doors of Bunka and onto the busy streets of Shinjuku. The sky was bright and clear, not a single cloud in the sky. She had just finished presenting a piece in her Men’s Wear class and it had gone particularly well, so she was feeling upbeat and happy, a sensation she hadn’t been accustomed to in recent weeks.

“I know,” Sora agreed, falling into step with people on the sidewalk. “It’s been a while — I’m sorry, I got busy with school.”

Mimi let out a loud sigh. “Responsibilities,” she said, sounding exasperated. “It’s not just on you — I’m trying to arrange a buying trip to Seoul for the shop and let me tell you, it hasn’t been fun trying to figure out the budget.”

“I can only imagine,” Sora said honestly. She truly _could_ only imagine having already had your career figured out and trying to manage it. “That’s exciting though!”

“It will be if it ever happens,” Mimi sighed again. “But enough about that. Let’s catch up! Are you free for dinner tonight?”

Sora pursed her lips, mentally running through her schedule. She had to get started on the patterns for her knitwear design class, or she would start to fall behind. “I probably can’t do dinner,” she said, disappointed, “I have a lot of schoolwork this week.”

Mimi blew a raspberry. “Darn it. Taichi, too. How about a coffee? If we do coffee, he can probably meet us later. Just for an hour or so.”

“Ooh, coffee could work,” Sora said as she made her way to the Toei Oedo line entrance of the subway. “Did you have anywhere in mind?”

Mimi hummed on the other end. “Hmm, not really. If you’re still near school, I could come meet you and we could just go to Blue Bottle in NEWoMan?”

Sora considered it for a moment. The coffee at Blue Bottle was great, but that particular one was often crowded and busy, its department store location making it a high area for traffic. The memory of the coffee she had had in Omotesando suddenly came to mind. 

“Actually,” Sora stopped walking, leaning against the wall next to the ticket machine. “I stumbled upon this really great coffee place in Omotesando a couple of weeks ago. I had the best latte I have ever had. Would you be up for meeting there?”

“Omotesando?” Mimi hummed. “Sure! After we split up, I might peek into La Foret, so that works for me! I’ll let Taichi know and see if he can pry himself away from the books for a few hours.”

“Great,” Sora smiled. “Meet there in about 45 minutes?”

“Sounds good!”

Sora gave Mimi the address and hung up her phone, dropping it in her bag. Making her way down the stairs to the trains, Sora remembered the blonde barista who worked there. 

_I wonder if he’ll be working_ , she thought, her cheeks instantly flushing. She shook her head, swiping her Pasmo card as she came to the turnstill. It would be nice if he was, but she didn’t want to bank on it. 

Later, she approached the cafe to see Mimi standing outside, scrolling through her phone. Her pink hair was adorned with a thick, black velvet hairband; coupled with her white dress, she had a very Alice in Wonderland look going for her. Sora admired it as she walked over. 

“Mimi!” she called, walking a little faster towards her friend. “Hey!”

At the sight of her, Mimi broke out into a grin and ran forward, throwing her arms around her friend. Sora felt herself flush, still surprised by the public displays of affection her friend so easily gave. Mimi had spent part of her childhood growing up in America, and as a result, she was a little more relaxed than most of their other friends when it came to things like hugging or touching in front of others. She awkwardly hugged her back.

“Sora, it’s so good to see you,” Mimi exclaimed, pulling back. “It’s only been two weeks, but it feels like it’s been two-hundred.”

Sora laughed. It had been a while. “I know. I’m glad we were able to make time to get together.”

Looping her arm through Sora’s, Mimi began leading the way back to the cafe. “Me too. Taichi is just finishing up a paper, but he said he should be here in about fifteen minutes. I haven’t told him about the La Foret trip, so I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear about our post-coffee plans.”

The two girls stepped into the cafe, the familiar scent wafting through the air. Sora glanced at the counter and saw a tuff of blonde hair. A little shock ran through her. 

Was he working?

“I’ve never been here before,” Mimi murmured as they walked towards the counter. “I went on their Instagram though, and their pastries look good. How did you find this place?”

“I stumbled upon it while window shopping,” Sora fibbed. While she _had_ stumbled upon it, she hadn’t been so much window shopping as she had been commiserating over every aspect of her life. “It’s really good.”

The two approached the counter and Mimi frowned as she read its contents. “Sora, they don’t have oat milk here,” she pouted. “Maybe we should go to About Life in Shibuya. They have oat milk there.”

Sora rolled her eyes. Mimi’s obsession with this specific milk alternative had been going strong since she had tried it on a visit back home to New York the summer before and she had been eagerly waiting for it to make its way to Tokyo. “Mimi, we’re already here,” she chided, “plus, About Life is a stand. There’s only that tiny bench to sit on. They have soy milk here.”

“Soy milk makes me break out,” Mimi sighed. She scanned the menu further. “I suppose I could do almond milk.”

“Almond milk is a great choice,” Sora smiled, relieved. “You could get one of those strawberry croissants with it, too.”

Mimi looked at the pastry case thoughtfully. “It would make a nice Instagram photo.”

As Mimi ordered, Sora’s gaze alternated between trying to decide what to order and trying to determine if the blonde barista was in fact working. The counter was so long that it was difficult to see down to the end where the series of espresso machines stood, blocking the view. 

_Guess it’ll be a surprise then_ , she thought, turning her attention to the menu board. She felt like something sweet - something fruity and chocolatey all at once. Perhaps a mocha? She wondered what kinds of flavoured syrup they had. 

Ahead of her, Mimi completed her order, and she turned towards Sora, holding a blue plate with a pink croissant perched on top. She looked decidedly more pleased. 

“Sora, are you okay to grab my drink and I’ll go get us a table?” Mimi asked. “It’s busier here than I expected and there’s only a few tables that will seat us plus Taichi, and I don’t want them to get taken.”

Sora nodded. “Sure, no problem. What was your drink?”

“I got an iced hazelnut latte and added caramel, so some variation of that? With almond milk.” Mimi squeezed Sora’s arm as she walked by. “Thank you! You’re the best.”

After deliberating for a moment longer, Sora stepped up to the counter and ordered a mocha with a shot of raspberry, just for the extra zing. Taking a deep breath, she headed to the end of the counter. The moment of truth. 

Sure enough, scooping ice into a glass was the blonde barista, his brow furrowed in concentration. He wore a tight black t-shirt under his work apron and Sora gulped at the sight. 

God, he was attractive, she thought, her gaze lingering on him. He looked up and his eyes suddenly met hers, growing slightly wide behind his glasses. 

Sora felt her heart jump in her throat. Oh no. He had definitely caught her staring. 

“Oh,” he said, setting the glass down on the counter. “Hi. You’re back.”

Sora felt her cheeks grow warm instantly. He remembered her? “Hi,” she said shyly. “Um, yes. I liked the coffee I had the other week, so I decided to meet a friend here.”

“Ah,” he said softly, nodding. “I’m glad to hear it.” He picked up a bottle of caramel sauce and began lining the glass with it. “Is this yours? Almond milk hazelnut latte with caramel sauce?”

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Sora shook her head. “Oh, no, that belongs to my friend.”

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows. “Then that means the next one is for you? Soy milk mocha with raspberry?”

Feeling even more awkward, Sora nodded. “Yes, thought I’d try something a little different.” She paused, his tone of voice catching her off guard. “You sound surprised.”

“Sorry,” he said, topping off Mimi’s drink with a combination of milk and mocha coffee. He popped in a straw and slid it over to her. “I saw you and your friend enter and I immediately thought that the pink drink would go to your pink haired friend.”

“Ah,” Sora gave a little smile. “Isn’t that assuming stereotypes?”

“It very much is,” he agreed and bowed in apology. “And for that I am sorry.” He stood straighter, picking up a mug and starting on her drink. 

“Don’t be,” Sora waved her hand. “She is very much about a pink ‘aesthetic’. Truthfully, it is surprising that it is my drink.”

“It wasn’t really that,” he said, grabbing a bottle of raspberry syrup. He poured some in the bottom, before glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes. “It was also surprising because not a lot of people order raspberry.” He leaned down to grab the carton of soy milk from the fridge beneath the counter. 

“Oh?” Sora felt her heart start to pound. He kept making conversation! She hadn’t expected this. “Really? It’s one of my favourites.”

Pouring milk into the pitcher, he capped the carton and set it down beside him. “Feedback I’ve heard is that it’s too sweet.”

Sora’s face fell. Oh god, had she ordered a lame drink? Was there such a thing? She loved raspberry. Was it too late to lie and say the drink was Mimi’s? “Oh. I see.”

Flipping the steamer off, the boy pulled the pitcher of milk out from under the spout, cleaning it off before beginning to pour her milk into her mug. “I like sweet, personally,” he said, not looking up from his work, “so I can’t say that I agree with them.”

At this, Sora felt her heart flutter. She smiled. “You have good taste then.”

Setting her drink down in front of her, his eyes met hers, bright and clear behind his glasses. “I like to think so.” He gave a short smile. 

Feeling her smile grow wider, Sora stepped forward and picked up her latte. She heard him clear his throat. 

Glancing up, she saw that he was rubbing the back of his neck in the same bashful move she had seen the week prior. His tattoo flashed again, but Sora still couldn’t make it out. “Sorry today’s artwork isn’t as exciting,” he explained, looking down as he cleaned up the prep from her drink. “I might be a one-trick pony when it comes to latte art — I can only really do leaves well.”

Looking at her drink, she saw that in the foam was a variation on the same leaves she had seen previously. Oh _god_ , he really _did_ remember her. 

“Oh, no,” Sora laughed, her voice sounding awkward even to her own ears. “They’re beautiful. Having something you do really well isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

The boy looked up at her again, his eyes studying her face for a moment for nodding. “Thanks. Did you want a tray for your drinks?” he asked, gesturing to Mimi’s drink on the counter. 

Sora shook her head. “No, I think I can manage. But thank you.”

“No problem,” he said, nodding. He turned away from her, collecting the soy milk carton and ducking down to the fridge. “Enjoy your drink.”

Taking that as her cue to leave, Sora picked up her drinks and turned around, looking for Mimi. She found her friend seated at a small table close to the window and headed over. 

“Ooh, thank you!” Mimi cooed as Sora set her drink in front of her. “This looks good. Try the croissant, it’s really yummy.”

Sora nodded, still feeling flushed. She had just had a whole conversation with the gorgeous barista and hadn’t made a complete fool out of herself. “Okay,” she said, lost in thought. “I will.”

Across from her, Mimi raised an eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you?”

Sora blinked. “Sorry, what?” 

“You look completely dazed,” Mimi said, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of her drink. “Oh, wow, this is delicious!” 

Flushing further, Sora shook her head. “No, I’m fine! Just tired.”

“Tired?” Taichi voice sounded behind them. Sora glanced over her shoulder, seeing him approach them with a bright smile on his face. He slid into the empty chair between and set down his bag in the basket underneath. “Don’t be tired! I’m here now!” 

“Babe!” Mimi exclaimed, her face lighting up at the sight of her boyfriend. “You’re on time! And after you’ve been so busy from school work. I’m so impressed.”

Taichi leaned forward and gave Mimi’s knee a squeeze. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting. I haven’t seen you in two whole days after all.” He darted forward, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. Mimi’s Americanisms had rubbed off of him. 

Sora glanced away - no matter how many years had passed, she could never get used to the PDA between them. “Hi, Taichi.”

Taichi shot her a toothy grin. “Hi, Sora,” he gave her a little wave. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Sora said, “though admittedly, tired.”

“Well, hopefully that coffee perks you up!” Taichi gave her a wink, before leaning back over to his girlfriend. “Babe, what are you drinking?”

“The usual,” Mimi said, holding it up and offering it to him. “Want to take a drink?”

Taichi nodded, before taking a sip. He made a face. “I always forget the usual is too sweet.” He turned towards Sora. “Sora, what are you drinking?”

Sora pulled her drink away from Taichi. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to try it yet. “If Mimi’s is too sweet, this will definitely be too sweet. Go get your own drink.”

“Fine,” Taichi said, letting out a heavy sigh as he stood from his seat. “I’ll go get my own drink. Though, you know, if you guys wanted coffee, we could have just gone to Starbucks. There’s one right across from my apartment. No need to come out so far.”

Sora rolled her eyes again and picked up her drink, finally taking a sip. She smiled. 

Sweet indeed. 

x x x

No, that was a fairly normal interaction, Sora thought to herself as she finished packing up her things. Especially compared to the dramatics that had occurred the last time she was there. 

Over the span of the last three months, Sora had been to the cafe around four or five times a month. Sometimes she was with Taichi and Mimi, huddled in the corner that now became their booth drinking lattes and sharing croissants. Other times she had met up with Koushiro, listening intently as he detailed his plans for everything from the surprise party he was throwing for his mom to world domination over oolong tea. Most often, she found herself going alone, ordering a new drink each time and heading to a table to work through her class assignments. 

No matter who she was with or what she ordered, Sora always quietly hoped that the blonde barista was working. The odds weren’t always in their favor - while he was there frequently, he didn’t appear to be a full time employee like the girl who often worked behind the register. Depending on the time of day she went, there was a one in three chance that he’d be there. 

Still, every time she stepped into the cafe, the first thing she did was try to peer down the long counter to see if he was there, her body buzzing with excitement. Their conversations hadn’t gotten any deeper, still largely related to what she was ordering or general things, like the weather. But each one still thrilled her. Sure, here it had been three months and she still didn’t know his name, but at least they had achieved the comforting regular-barista banter that was a starting point. 

Or at least she hoped it was. Standing up, Sora sighed. She gave a little stretch and headed for the elevator. It was time to go home.   
  


x x x

If you asked Sora, it didn’t really make sense that Taichi and Mimi didn’t live together. 

To begin, they spent pretty much all of their time with each other — when Mimi wasn’t working and when Taichi wasn’t studying, the two were either exploring the city on dates, hanging out with Sora and Koushiro, or spending time at each other’s apartments. When you spent that much time together already, didn’t it make sense just to take the next step and live together?

Secondly, Taichi and Mimi were both always complaining about money. Taichi was in his fourth year of school and while his parents had generously paid for his tuition, his part-time job at the Pachinko parlour really just gave him enough for rent, and rarely allowed for him to live more luxuriously than conbini carbonara and a few beers once a week. Even when they went out for coffee, he usually just ordered a black house brew, with no frills, and Sora knew part of the reason he complained about going on the Loop line was that the fare was more expensive the farther you went. 

While Mimi came from money, starting her own business had caused her to understand the real value of a dollar — and just how far it would and would not stretch. She had quickly discovered that start-up costs for a small business were incredibly high and no matter how many times her father told her that she would have to spend money to make money, every time that she chipped away at the loan they had given her, she felt stressed and defeated To top it off, Mimi had zero source of income outside of her shop, not looking to rely on her parents more than necessary, meaning that she often just broke even. 

Needless to say, to Sora, it made no sense that they didn’t move in together and cut costs and the time spent commuting to see the other. But when Sora asked Mimi about it, the pink haired girl merely rolled her eyes. 

“Taichi says we can’t move in together until he’s graduated and found a proper job,” she said with a sigh. “He says that he wants to prove to Daddy that he can take care of me. Even though I’m pretty sure Daddy would be happy to take care of both Taichi and myself for the rest of his life. So until then, separate apartments it is.”

Not wanting to push the topic any further, Sora had dropped it. Still, given that they were constantly crashing at each other’s places, they both spent at least 50% of the month paying for an apartment they weren’t even sleeping in. 

Case in point, Sora thought as she stood in Mimi’s kitchen, tonight the three of them would be having dinner at Mimi’s, where Taichi would no doubt spend the night, leaving his apartment unoccupied. It was just like Taichi to be stubborn about his pride and not relent to something that would be good for him in the long run. 

“I texted Taichi and told him to bring dessert,” Mimi said, not looking up from where she was breading shrimp. “I wanted to make something, but I had meetings with a vendor that went too long, so I ran out of time. I told him to get something from that sweet shop near his school, so hopefully he did.” 

“Oooh,” Sora commented, thinking of the delicious cakes that came from said bakery. “I hope he does. That place is great.”

“I’ve trained him well, so hopefully he does,” Mimi stepped over to the pan of hot oil she had on the stove and tested the temperature, dropping a piece of panko into its depths. It sizzled and she smiled contently. In addition to her business skills, Mimi was something of an excellent home chef. Which was lucky, given that Taichi could barely cook to save his life. 

Hence all of the conbini carbonara. 

“Is Hikari-chan coming tonight?” Sora asked, slicing tomatoes at Mimi’s kitchen counter for the salad. Though the petite brunette often popped up at both Taichi and Mimi’s unexpectedly, Sora hadn’t seen Taichi’s younger sister in months.

Mimi shook her head. “No, she’s out with her new boyfriend at some book event in Jimbocho.”

Sora stopped slicing, tilting her head to the side. “Hikari-chan has a new boyfriend? I didn’t know that.” 

Mimi nodded, depositing pieces of shrimp one by one into the frying pan with her chopsticks. “It’s still new — I don’t think they are Instagram official yet, but she told the family. I don’t know much about him other than that they met in one of her photojournalism classes.”

“Instagram official? Is a relationship even real these days if it isn’t Instagram official?” Sora laughed, sliding the tomatoes off the chopping board into the bowl of lettuce beside her. “They met in her photojournalism class? Is he a photographer, too?”

“I don’t think so,” Mimi said thoughtfully, flipping over the shrimp. “I thinkkkk Taichi said he was just in regular journalism, but given that this is secondhand information, it could be completely off the mark. Best we have a girls day with Hikari and interrogate her on our own to get the full details.”

“Good call,” Sora agreed, surveying the salad in front of her. Good enough. “What does Taichi think of it?”

“Ehn,” Mimi shrugged nonchalantly, “he seems fine with it. As Hikari gets older, I think he realized that his whole overprotective thing just comes off as creepy as opposed to, well, _protective_ , so he’s backed off. He trusts her and knows that she can take care of herself.

“Uh huh,” Sora folded her arms and turned to lean against the counter. “So he hates it?”

Mimi laughed, throwing her head back and grinning. “Oh yeah, he’s convinced he’s not good enough for her. But to be fair, he is being considerably more relaxed about it than he would have been when we were younger. We haven’t met him yet, though, so the jury is still out on whether or not he is or isn’t good enough for her.”

“I guess we’ll find out in time,” Sora mused, picking up a slice of tomato and popping it in her mouth. “Man, I can’t believe Hikari-chan is actively dating. Feels just like yesterday she was starting high school and now she has a boyfriend. How time flies.”

“Hmm,” Mimi agreed. “It makes me feel old.”

“No kidding,” Sora didn’t like to let aging scare her, but moments like this always tripped her up a bit. “Hikari’s lucky, though. Those first few months of dating are always so exciting and new. They really are the best.”

Turning the shrimp over in the pan, Mimi looked over her shoulder at Sora. “They are, but there can be a lot of good in the middle, too,” she said, “or at least that’s what I’m finding.”

“That’s because you and Taichi are special,” Sora said wistfully. “You’ve been together for what, five years at this point?”

Mimi nodded. “Going on six.”

“Absolutely wild,” Sora stared off. “Hikari-chan has a serious boyfriend, you two are practically married, and here I am completely and totally single.”

Picking up a roll of paper towel, Mimi ripped off a sheet and set it down next to the pan. “Have you thought about dating at all recently, Sora?”

Sora shook her head. “Not really. With school, I don’t think I really have the time. Plus, it’s hard to meet people these days.”

Mimi let out a little giggle. “Oh really? What about that barista you were making eyes at last week?”

At this, Sora flushed. “I was not making eyes at the barista!”

Mimi laughed. “Okay, okay, whatever you say.”

“Plus,” Sora continued, “I haven’t seriously considered dating since Jyou and I broke up. It’s a big step.”

Still working away at the stove, Mimi was quiet for a moment. “But that doesn’t have anything to do with Jyou himself, right?” she asked carefully. 

Sora frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Like, you haven’t not dated cause you’re still into Jyou, right?” Mimi was now completely focused on her work, not meeting Sora’s eyes. “You’ve said you’re over him and that was the truth... _right_?”

Now Sora was really confused. Why was Mimi bringing up whether or not she was over Jyou? “Yes…” Sora trailed off. “Mimi, why do you ask?”

“Sora, so, here’s the thing,” Mimi said abruptly, pulling the shrimp from the oil and placing it on the paper towel beside her. “There’s kind of something I should tell you.”

Sora blinked and furrowed her eyebrows. Something to tell her? What could she possibly have to tell her that would make her use that serious tone. “Oh god,” a hand flew to her mouth. “You’re pregnant aren’t you.”

Mimi whirled around, a wild look on her face. “What?! Sora, I—”

“If you are, it’s okay!” Sora said admanently, making her way across the small kitchen in two steps. She placed her hands on her friends shoulders. “Does Taichi know? If he doesn’t, I know he’ll be supportive. I’m here, too! And Koushiro. You know what they say — it takes a village.”

Mimi placed her hands over Sora’s and removed them, giving them a little squeeze. “Sora,” she said slowly, looking her in the eye. “I am not pregnant. You can calm down.”

Sora let out a breath of relief. For all their accomplishments, Taichi and Mimi were not ready to be parents at twenty-two. “Okay. Phew. What is it then?”

Turning back to her work, Mimi placed the last of the shrimp on the paper towel, before killing the heat on the stove. She turned back to Sora and bit her lip. 

“So here’s the thing,” she leaned against the counter and bit her lip. “Please know that I am trying to tell you this as delicately as possible, even though I’m not sure it’s still a delicate situation. 

Sora frowned, feeling impatient. “Mimi, don’t drag this out,” she said pointedly. She was never a fan of dramatics, but especially in moments like this. “Just tell me what’s up.”

Mimi let out a breath and looked Sora in the eye. “Okay. So Taichi and I had dinner with Jyou last night.” 

While her heart sunk ever so slightly at the sound of his name, Sora didn’t flinch. Taichi and Mimi seeing Jyou was hardly a newsworthy event. “Okay?” she stared at her friend, confused. “You see Jyou all of the time. What’s the big deal?”

Mimi pressed her lips together, her cheeks slowly growing the colour of her hair. Her discomfort was obvious. “We do, but he shared some sort of unexpected news with us.”

“Unexpected news?” Sora felt her heart pick up. “Is everything okay?”

“He’s fine!” Mimi said, waving her hands. “Totally fine. Healthy, looks good, etcetera. But he let us know that he is getting ready to move for medical school soon. I know that Jyou had always planned on going to medical school in Osaka, but last night he told us that he’s actually moving to Morioka — he accepted an offer to Itawe Medical School.”

At this, Sora raised her eyebrows. It was no surprise that Jyou was getting ready to move — it was expected when he started pre-med that he would eventually go to medical school and if Sora’s calculations were correct, he was due to graduate any day now. But Itawe Medical School? For as long as she had known Jyou, all he talked about was going to Osaka University and attending their Graduate School of Medicine. It was the same program his father and older brother had taken.

“Itawe Medical School?” Sora felt confused. “What? Osaka University is one of the top schools for medicine in the country. I don’t think Itawe is even close. Why is Jyou going to Itawe? Did he not get into Osaka?”

The expression on Mimi’s face was pinched and stressed. She swallowed. “He got in,” she said, hesitantly. “But in addition to letting us know that he had chosen another path for school, he also let us know some...other news.”

Stomach lurching, Sora tried to remain composed on the outside. “What other news?”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Mimi’s shoulders slumped. “I was really hoping Taichi would be here for this part. We had planned to tell you together.” She wrung her hands together nervously. “Jyou met someone and she’s from Morioka. After graduation, she is moving back there to complete her Graduate program at Itawe. So that’s why. He chose Morioka and Itawe Medical School to be closer to his...his new girlfriend. 

Sora smiled softly, though on the inside her head was spinning. “Jyou’s dating someone? Since when?”

“He’s been dating her for about seven months,” Mimi said simply, looking sad. “He didn’t tell us until last night because he knows how close we are with you and he felt awkward...plus he didn’t realize it would get this serious. So we didn’t know. I promise if we knew, we would have told you. Neither Taichi and I would keep something like this from you.”

Sora let out a shaky breath, taking it all in. Jyou was dating someone new. Jyou was dating someone new and moving to Morioka. That was what? Two hours by train? Five by car? Whatever it was, it wasn’t getting on the subway and heading to his parents place in Kichijoji.

“Well,” she took another deep breath and stood up a little straighter. “Good for Jyou, I guess. That’s a big step.”

Mimi looked taken aback. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Sora nodded, turning back around to the salad she had been prepping. She began cleaning up. “Sure, I mean, Jyou and I broke up a year and a half ago and we haven’t really spoken in almost a year. I’m over it.”

Behind her, Mimi was quiet. “Are you sure, Sora?” she asked carefully. “It’s just me. If you’re upset, you can let me know.”

Turning back around, Sora grinned. “Mimi, I’m fine. Jyou and I are ancient history. I’m happy for him, as long as he feels he’s making the right choice.”

Frowning, Mimi didn’t look convinced. “Okay…” she said apprehensively. 

The sound of the clanging door rang through the apartment, causing both girls to jump. “Hi! I’m here!” Taichi’s voice called from the entrance. “Something smells good!”

As he walked into the apartment, a pastry box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, he took in the scene in front of him and frowned, the cheery smile on his face dropping at once. His eyes shot over to his girlfriend.  
  
“Everything okay?” he said suspiciously. “Did something happen?”

Mimi sighed, exasperated. “I told her.”

“You told her?” Taichi’s face fell as he set the wine and box on the kitchen counter. “I thought we were going to tell her together.”

“We were. But one thing led to another.”

“I’m fine, Taichi,” Sora said easily. “Really. It’s a little bit of a surprise, but I’m not upset about it.”

Taichi narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

Sora laughed. “Join the club; Mimi doesn’t either.” She turned to both of her friends and gave a smile. “But trust me, if I was upset, I would just tell you. It’s been a long time since Jyou and I were together. If anything, I’m worried about him as a friend since it’s a bold move. But I’m not upset for myself.”

Taichi folded his arms. “I bought wine and strawberry tarts to make this easier. Mimi and I had a plan.”

“We did,” Mimi confirmed, “we were going to tell you over dessert and then get drunk to drown your sorrows collectively.”

“Now that plan is ruined,” Taichi continued, “cause you are taking this a little too well.”

Sora crossed the kitchen and picked up the bottle of wine, a moderately priced red that they had had before. “Your plan included only one bottle?”

Taichi let out a little gasp. “Of course not! Don’t underestimate us - there’s another bottle in my bag!” 

“Plus, we have a spare bottle in the fridge!” Mimi piped up. “Just in case.”

Still holding the bottle in her hands, Sora grinned. “Just because the outcome was different than you imagined doesn’t mean we can’t action the plan,” she said cheekily. “I’m game to polish these off if you are.”

Taichi and Mimi exchanged a look. Sora knew she hadn’t won them over, but she also knew they were weighing how hard to push.

“I’ll get the glasses, Mi,” Taichi relented, heading over to the living room to grab them from the bar cart. 

Sora inwardly let out a sigh of relief. She glanced over at Mimi. Her friend looked sad. 

“What is it, Mimi?” she asked. 

“You know you can talk to me, right Sora?” Mimi said seriously. “About anything.”

Sora nodded. “Of course. I’m really fine, Mimi.”

Mimi didn’t say anything for a minute, before continuing. “I’m going to let this go for tonight but only if you promise to get really, really drunk.”

Sora laughed. “It’s a promise.”

x x x

That night, wine buzzed and exhausted, Sora arrived home at her apartment and promptly laid face down on her bed. 

Jyou was moving to _Morioka_. 

Jyou had a _new girlfriend_. 

Jyou was moving to _Morioka_ to be with his _new girlfriend_. 

Sora had obviously lied when she told Taichi and Mimi everything was okay. She knew that they could see through it, but how couldn’t they? How could anything be okay when Jyou was _moving to Morioka to be with his new girlfriend_? 

Sora had known Jyou her whole life, longer than Mimi and even longer than Taichi. In the cliche to end all cliches, they grew up on the same street, attending elementary, middle, and high school together. Jyou was a year older than her, but their age difference didn't account for much when they had spent so much time watching the other grow up. 

Jyou was, by the very definition, her best, _best_ friend. Sure, Taichi and Mimi were her best friends, but Jyou was her very, _very_ best. She could call him in the middle of the night for anything in a way that she couldn’t with anyone else and they would talk for hours about literally anything. 

So it wasn’t a surprise when they got older and suddenly she woke up and saw that Jyou was suddenly more than just a friend. It wasn’t a surprise when they started developing feelings and Jyou asked her out her senior year of high school.

At the start of their relationship, they had vowed that above all, they would put their friendship first. That no matter what, they would remain friends before anything else. 

It had been an impossible promise to keep. 

Sora rolled over, clutching her pillow to her chest. As much as she was over Jyou — and she _was_ , deep down; she knew that there was no chance they would ever get back together and she didn’t even want that — the knowledge that he had moved on hurt. Knowing that he was changing his entire life plan for another woman? That was even worse. 

Jyou had been her first everything. Her first friend, her first kiss during a dare, her first serious boyfriend, her first time. If there was a first in her life, chances were Jyou was involved. He was the first to know about anything and everything in her life, from what music she was listening to to what she wanted to do over the weekend to her hopes and dreams. 

And now he wasn’t the first to know anything. The year they hadn’t spoken spanned between them, creating a distance that felt too far to navigate. Now, Sora didn’t know anything about what he was listening to or what he wanted to do on the weekend or what his hopes and dreams were. She just knew he was giving up all of the dreams he had previously had for someone who was not her. 

Her stomach turned. She had stayed true to her word, polishing off the bottles of wine with Taichi and Mimi, and eating three of the six strawberry tarts Taichi had bought. This, coupled with the impending dread she felt, did not make her feel great.

Swinging her legs over the bed, Sora darted for her bathroom, where she leaned over the toilet and threw up. 

x x x

Sora was having a bad day. 

Drinking with Taichi and Mimi the night before had not only caused her to wake up puffy, bloated, and slightly hungover, but it also caused her to wake up late. Staggering out of bed, she raced around her apartment, getting ready at record speed, throwing on a few quick swipes of mascara and the only sundress she owned that wouldn’t have to be steamed. 

As her luck would have it, the train line she took to school was experiencing a delay and so she had had to take the long route to school, making her even later than she would have been if she had just waited for it to clear. 

Arriving late to her knitwear studio class hadn’t gotten her on the good side of Katsuragi-sensi, who already appeared to be in a sour mood. After calling out Sora’s lateness, Katsuragi-sensi had all but verbally ripped apart the ribbing on her fisherman’s knit sweater. 

She scolded Sora that it was sloppy and imprecise, the ribbing bound to unravel overtime. _This isn’t what I taught you!_ She said, sounding equal parts disappointed and frustrated, _look at the differences in size between the loops!_

All the while, Sora had clutched the lavender yarn that made up her sorry excuse for a garment and willed it to be over. Worse than Katsuragi-sensi’s lecture was the fact that she was right; it was sloppy and imprecise work, which felt perfectly fitting for how Sora was feeling. 

Sloppy, imprecise, and lost. 

Upon the class’s end, Sora bunched up her sweater and shoved it in her bag, loose ends and all. Now it sat beside her on the bench at the cafe in Omotesando, its light purple threads mocking her from where it peeked out inside her bag. 

Taking a long drink of her coffee — simple house brew, with a little bit of brown sugar — Sora felt exhausted, the weight of the day and the news Mimi had shared hanging over her. She had come to the cafe after class in hopes of cheering herself up with a fancy drink and perhaps some light conversation with the blonde barista. It wasn’t much, but it would be the tiniest of pick me ups to have an iced latte with caramel and just a little bit of back and forth conversation; maybe they would talk about the weather or something.

Instead, she had walked in and instead seen a girl with a grey-blue bob working the bar and felt disappointment rush over her. Of course he wasn’t working; that was on par with the day. 

Going up to the counter, she ordered a simple black coffee, parked herself down at the bench furthest in the corner, and opened up her laptop. Might as well do some class reading. 

Needless to say, hours later Sora hadn’t gotten much reading done, her mind instead drifting to her terrible class that afternoon. Why was she so bad with knitwear? She could work well with other textiles, but something about looping her own sweater had proven to be so difficult. How was she ever going to have a successful career as a fashion designer if she couldn’t knit a sweater? What was she going to do, put out a ready-to-wear line for fall that included nothing but jersey knits

Well, she thought, and took another sip of coffee, Coco Chanel loved a good jersey knit. So maybe.

Sora sighed, leaning back in her seat. Point to remember was that she was no Coco Chanel; she was just good ol’ Takenouchi Sora, whose work her professors had said was ‘promising’ but not much beyond that. 

If you had asked Sora a couple years ago if this was where she saw her life going, she would have one-hundred percent said no. The Sora from two years ago would have thought she was making it through Bunka with flying colours at this point — and she would have absolutely thought she would still be with Jyou. 

Not sitting by herself in a cafe in Omotesando, feeling hungover and puffy, absolutely struggling with school and absolutely single. 

When had things gotten like this? When had she become such a shell of her former self? The younger her was able to tackle things head on and confidently. Was it when she and Jyou broke things off? Or was it before that? Or maybe she had always been over her head and now things were just catching up to her. No wonder things hadn’t worked out with Jyou. No wonder he was packing up and moving to Morioka to be with someone who was probably decidedly more put together than herself. 

She turned to her sweater, still poking out of her bag, and glared at it. 

“Pathetic,” she whispered into her mug. “Are you even a sweater? Or just a lump of yarn?”

Someone cleared their throat in front of her. 

Glancing up, Sora’s gaze fell on the blonde barista, standing in front of her. In his hand was a plate. He looked at her apprehensively. 

“Hello,” she blanched, immediately sitting up straighter. “When did you get here?!”

He frowned slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Um, hi. About four hours ago.”

“Four hours?” Sora exclaimed, picking up her phone. Sure enough, roughly six hours had spanned since she stepped foot in the doorway. Looking around the cafe, she saw that it was nearly empty, save for a couple by the front window, herself, the blonde and the grey haired girl from earlier. She could see that it had gotten dark outside. “Oh god, I’ve been here a long time.” Setting down her mug, she bowed apologetically. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me just now. I have just been concentrating on my work and in another world.”

“And only ordering drip coffee,” he stated, stepping forward slowly. “Which means that you’re not coming down to the end of the bar where you’d see me. Not that I’d expect you to notice I was here.” 

Sora didn’t respond right away. But _he_ had noticed that _she_ was there? She shook the thought off — of course he had, she had been sitting in the same spot for his entire shift. “It’s been a black coffee kind of day,” she said with a small smile. 

“We all have those days,” he set the plate down on the table and slid it over to her. “But I’ve seen you order three in the time I’ve been here and absolutely nothing else, so I thought maybe you could use this. 

Sora glanced down - it held a perfect croissant, the top covered in a thick layer of powdered sugar and thinly sliced almonds. 

She was all at once delighted and mortified. 

“Oh,” she mentally ran through her appearance. Had she smudged her mascara when she was rubbing her eyes? Did she smell like coffee and alcohol? “Thank you. That’s very nice of you. How much do I owe you? ”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shoved his hands into his apron pockets awkwardly. “It’s getting late and we still have loads of pastries in the case. I felt like maybe you could use it.” 

“No, no,” Sora shook her head, opening her bag to reach for her wallet; the purple sweater popped out and she inwardly groaned, shoving it back down. “I’m happy to pay for it.”

“No, please, it’s on us,” he insisted. Sora glanced up at him again; he was looking extra good today, she noted, wearing a light blue button down shirt that was rolled up to his elbows. “It’s no big deal. We usually just take home what we don’t sell anyway, or donate them if there’s too much.”

Sora nodded, not wanting to push it. “Thank you very much, then. I’m starving.”

“I figured,” he said, “my coworker said you’ve been here a pretty long time.”

Feeling her cheeks get hot, Sora nodded. “I’ve just been working on schoolwork,” she said simply. “Time flies by when you’re having fun!”

The man smiled slightly. “Sure do—”  
  
“Yama-chan!” a high pitched voice called across the cafe. Sora and the man turned their attention over to the bar, where the grey-haired girl was removing her apron. “I’m going to clock out now. Pastries are all packed up and I’ll take the garbage with me on my way out. You okay to finish closing up?”

_Yama-chan_? A nickname? Sora thought, watching him out of the corner of her eye. 

He nodded. “Yeah, should be fine, Keiko-chan,” he responded. 

“Okay,” Keiko flashed a peace sign, “I’ll see you on Thursday? I think our shifts overlap.”

“Sounds good,” he responded, lifting a hand to wave. 

Turning back to Sora, he gestured over his shoulder. “I had better go start closing up.”

Sora smiled. “Of course. Thanks again for the croissant. I’ll finish this up and get out of your hair.”

“Oh, no,” he shook his head. “You can stick around. Don’t feel like you need to rush out.”

Frowning, Sora surveyed the area. The couple at the front were polishing off their drinks, clearly getting ready to make an exit. “Aren’t you closing soon?” 

The man shrugged and pulled one hand out of his pockets, adjusting his glasses. “We are,” he confirmed, “but I don’t mind if you stick around a bit.”

Sora glanced at the croissant and her half finished coffee. She was incredibly hungry. “Okay,” she said hesitantly, “but I promise not to keep you too long.”

He gave a half smile as he turned to walk away. “Sounds good.”

Feeling something run through her, Sora heard herself speak before she even realized it was happening. “Hey, wait!” she called after him and he paused, turning to look at her over his shoulder. 

“Yes?”

“I just—” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear awkwardly. “I just — I’m sorry, but, I’ve been coming here for months and I don’t even know your name.”  
  
He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. My job doesn’t always make socializing natural. I’m Yamato.”

_Ah, now Yama-chan made sense._ Yamato. She liked it. “That’s a nice name,” Sora said, before catching herself. 

“Thanks,” he said, still smiling. “And you’re Sora, right? Sorry, I know from your order. Or is that a fake name you give at the register? That happens more than you’d think.”

Sora laughed. “No, that’s my name. It’s Sora.”

Yamato nodded. “That’s a nice name, too.”

Flushing, Sora turned down to her croissant. “I had better eat this so you can close up.”

Giving a small smile, Yamato turned and headed towards the counter, leaving Sora to her treat. 

x x x

Nine minutes later, Sora stood up, bags over her shoulder and plate and mug in hand to deliver it back to the return station at the counter. She had wanted to be faster, but she was trying to avoid making a mess of the table — and eating an almond croissant and not getting powdered sugar everywhere had proven to be difficult. 

As she set it down on the counter with a soft clink, Yamato rose from where he was crouched down, doing inventory of the items in the fridge. He glanced at the empty plate and then up at her. 

“You didn’t have to rush,” he said, placing his clipboard down and reaching to take the plate. “We only closed —” he glanced at the clock on the register, “four minutes ago.”

Sora shook her head, giving her hands a little wave. “I promise I didn’t rush!” she insisted, “I ate it at a normal speed. Thank you again.”

Running the plate under the sink, Yamato turned and placed it in the dishwasher. “Did you like it? It isn’t as fresh as it was this morning, but they keep pretty well.” He flicked the dishwasher on.

“Yes, it was delicious,” Sora said with a smile. “I tried not to make too much of a mess at the table so you didn’t have to clean up too much, but the powdered sugar made that hard.”

Yamato’s eyes darted over to the table and then back at her and gave a small smile. “That’s very considerate of you.”

Shrugging, Sora hitched her bag higher on her shoulder. “Well, I imagine you probably want to get home, so I don’t want to make you stay too late.”

Yamato nodded, his eyes falling on Sora’s bag. He gestured to it. “Your sweater looks like it might be falling out of your bag.” 

Sora jerked her head down, looking at her bag; sure enough, the sweater, which had been barely contained a moment ago, was bursting out the side of her bag, its arms dangling dangerously close to the ground.  
  
“Oh my god, this thing,” she opened up the flag of her bag and shoved the sweater back down, trying to get it out of Yamato’s sight. The last thing she needed was for him to get too long of a look at it. “It’s so bulky.”

“It looks warm,” Yamato said, turning to pick-up the discarded clipboard. “I like the colour.”

Pausing her motions, Sora glanced at him, feeling heat rise up her neck. He _had_ noticed it. “Thank you,” she said quickly, closing the flap of her bag and over the sweater and closing the buckles tightly. “Hopefully that will contain it until I get home.”

Yamato gave a short smile. “I wish you luck with that.”

“Thanks,” Sora said again, “for everything, really. You were right; I did need that.”

Holding the clipboard awkwardly in one hand, Yamato rubbed his neck in what was becoming an all too familiar move. “Call it barista intuition or something. You see a lot of stuff go down.”

“I can only imagine,” Sora laughed, heading for the door. “Have a good night.”

“You, too,” Yamato turned back to the fridge. “Get home safe, Sora-san.”

Sora felt even hotter. He called her Sora. “You, too, Yamato-san.”

Before he could see her beet red face, Sora walked towards the door and pushed it open, the cool spring air hitting her face. 

She let out a breath. 

x x x

Later, back at her apartment, Sora spread the sweater out on her bed and examined it. 

The ribbing really was too loose in some sections - while it was tighter around the neck, she had really let it go around the middle, especially on the right side. But it was still salvageable; she would only have to undo about a third of her progress so far to go back and tighten everything up. It wasn’t that bad. 

Plus, she liked the yarn she had picked; it was thick and _would_ be awfully warm in the winter. Maybe if she woke up a little early before class tomorrow, she could head to the studio and work on it for a couple of hours before she was due in her marketing class. 

Flopping down on her bed, Sora pulled the sweater to her and hugged it to her chest. 

It really _was_ a nice colour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few notes:
> 
> • I have spent around 20 years thinking about these characters, their feelings, and motivations — understanding that a lot of these are the result of the trauma they experience through, well, saving the world. I'm trying to write how they would develop with the same difficult up-bringings and none of the saving the world stuff, so hopefully that comes through in later parts.
> 
> • Also, writing a Yamato that isn't connected to the gang, but at the very least Taichi? Is hard.
> 
> • Any and all information related to Bunka Fashion College was independently researched by myself and therefore, may not be 100% accurate. If something is wrong, well, this is a Digimon coffee shop AU, so hopefully it doesn't ruin the whole fic.
> 
> • All locations in this fic are real and were mostly researched using my own two eyes on my travels to Tokyo over the years.
> 
> • The cafe is loosely based off of Lattest in Omotesando, where I had probably the best latte of my life. I’ve obviously taken some liberties here in terms of the layout, primarily with the counter set up, which is based off of a cafe I personally frequent. I also don’t recall them playing jazz.
> 
> • The pink croissant Mimi orders is real, though not available at Lattest - it’s from Alfred Tea Japan.


	2. whenever she looks, I read the nearest paper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. *crackles knuckles and unrolls scroll of excuses* Where to start? 
> 
> I honestly did not mean to take this long to update. I mean it. But a few things happened. None of which are important.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support and lovely comments on the first chapter. It really, truly thrilled me to read. In return for this kindness and patience between the long absence, here is a 15,000 word chapter I slaved over following exhausting 9-5 work days. Assume this takes place 2-3 weeks after the first chapter. Enough for more coffee visits to happen off-screen.

“That’s 30-love, Taichi!” Sora yelled, placing her hand on her hip. “You’re off your game this morning!” 

Across the court, Taichi stood with his hands pressed to his knees, breathing deeply. “Can we grab five, Sora? I’m tired.”

“I’m tired, too!” Sora shifted her weight to the other foot. “I was at the studio last night until after midnight! You don’t see me slowing down!” 

Glancing up, Taichi glared. “Yeah? Well, I was packing orders with Mimi until three in the morning!”

Folding her arms, Sora rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously being competitive about who has the better reason for being tired? Besides, more like you and Mimi and a couple of bottles of wine packed orders until three AM. I can smell the booze on you from over here.”

Taichi’s eyes narrowed further, before he sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine; I’m tired and hungover. Can we please grab five minutes? And then I can kick your ass after this.”

“Fine. Just five minutes, though,” Sora conceded. “We only have the court left for another fort.”

If there was one thing Taichi and Sora brought out in the other, it was an intense sense of competition. The two had met in junior high, both as captains of their respective gender’s soccer team. This had ignited a rivalry between them all the way until graduation, competing to see whose team would acquire the most wins. 

The athletic department head claimed the soccer clubs had never had a more successful run than the years when they were both in attendance. 

By the time they entered high school, their rivalry had mellowed out, finding that they actually enjoyed each other’s company. However, that sense of competition between the two of them never waned, both still looking for an opportunity to destroy the other in any given athletic activity, whether it be a 5KM run along Sumida River or a leisurely bike ride near Mimi’s apartment in Meguro.    
  
Now in college, with more limited time between them, organized sports like soccer were something neither had time for. Committing to playing on a team was out of the question and while kicking a ball around the field was fun now and then, it didn’t give them enough of the competitive edge they were looking for when only playing against each other.    


But tennis? Tennis was perfect. 

Sora had learned from her dad when she was young, playing occasionally on long visits at her grandmother’s in Kyoto over the summer. Sometime before high school graduation, Sora had taken the time to then teach Taichi; years later, they often chose tennis as their competitive outlet of choice, booking a court at Yoyogi-Nishihara park on a Saturday morning.   
  
It was one of the few things they did without Mimi. While Sora frequently found herself hanging out with Mimi alone, it was rare that she hung out with Taichi one-on-one. Needless to say, these mornings were special...even when Taichi was hopelessly hungover and being a big cry-baby about her absolutely beating him into dust.    
  
Sitting down on one of the benches lining the side of the court, Sora picked up her water bottle and took a long drink, the coolness hitting the back of her throat. She sighed in contentment. 

“It’s such a nice day,” she mused, “the perfect Saturday kind of weather. Do you have plans later?”

Chugging his own water bottle, Taichi wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Might grab a bite with Koushiro in Daikanyama later tonight. Wanna come with?”

“Oh yeah?” Sora stretched, thinking. She hadn’t seen Koushiro in a while - dinner with him and Taichi could be nice. “Where are you going?” 

“Ponta, probably,” Taichi took another long drink of water. “Koushiro mentioned this other place - SOL & LUNA? But I’m not sold.”

Sora quirked an eyebrow. “Ponta? You sure you want to eat tonkatsu after a night of drinking?”

Taichi rolled his eyes. “First off, I ate all of the umeboshi left in Mimi’s fridge this morning and then I made us miso soup for breakfast. I am doing fine. Second, yes, that is exactly what I want to eat after a night of drinking. 

Tilting her head to the side, Sora looked him up and down. “You kind of look like you’re going to throw up.”

“Ah, shut up,” Taichi groaned and flopped down on the bench next to her. 

Laughing, Sora patted him on the shoulder. “There, there, Taichi,” she said, still giggling, “I’m sure Mimi will help nurse you back to health later, even though you left her no umeboshi for her own hangover.”

“Please,” Taichi whined, slumped over, “she was chipper beyond belief this morning. She definitely drank more than me and was fresh as a daisy. I don’t think she’s been hungover a day in her life.”

At this, Sora laughed harder, feeling full of affection for her friends. 

Beside her, Taichi smiled. “You know, it’s good to see you so happy, Sora.”

Sora blinked. “Hmm? What do you mean?” 

Sitting up, Taichi leaned against the back of the bench, closing his eyes. “You seem really happy lately, always laughing and smiling,” he explained, “it’s nice. You were pretty quiet for a while there.”

Blushing, Sora felt suddenly bashful. Had her inner conflict crept into her day to day interactions with her friends? “Was I?”

Taichi nodded, opening one eye to glance at her. “Yeah, you were. I’m not going to lie, I was pretty worried. Mimi, too.”

Now Sora felt embarrassed. She hadn’t wanted her friends to worry about her — she hadn’t even realized she had given them cause to worry. Was she more of an open book than she thought? 

Letting out a breath, Sora folded her hands in her lap, trying to regain her composure. “Thank you for worrying about me,” she said softly. 

Taichi let out a little laugh. “You don’t need to thank me for worrying about you, Sora,” he chided, “we’re friends. Of  _ course _ we’re going to worry about you.”

“Even so,” Sora shrugged, “things have been...harder, lately. Which is difficult to admit. But school has been weighing on me.”

“Yeah?” Taichi said, finally opening his eyes and sitting up. “Did you want to talk about it? Mi mentioned that you’ve been stressed about your coursework.”

Sora shook her head. “It’s the same old same old,” she waved her hand. “The same stuff I’ve been stressed out about for years. My course load is demanding and I feel a creative block a lot. Not to mention, it’s not like getting closer to graduation has made my parents anymore supportive.”

Taichi frowned. “They haven’t gotten any better?”

“No,” tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she sighed. “I don’t think they ever will be one-hundred percent on board. I’m seeing them tomorrow and I’m absolutely dreading it.”

Taichi scrunched up his nose. “You have to go to Odaiba?”

Sora laughed. Growing up in Odaiba had done everything to make Taichi — and herself — absolutely uninterested in ever going back to the island. It was far, a good hour by train, and it was boring. You walked along the pier of Odaiba Beach once, you’ve walked along it 100 times. Unless she wanted to spend her time shopping at one of the four malls (DiverCity was the best — you could count out Decks entirely) or ride Daikanransha (which had a grew view of, well, nothing) then Odaiba didn’t really hold anything for you. 

Most of all, Odaiba had their parents, and while Taichi had an infinitely better relationship with his than Sora did hers, he still wasn’t eager to visit home every weekend — since Hikari had moved out, he had even less reason to go.

Truthfully, the only one with any real affinity for the island was Mimi, who had only lived there for three years before moving out to her own place in Meguro. 

“Yep,” Sora said with a sigh, “I have to go to Odaiba.”

“That sucks,” Taichi spun his racket in his hands. “While you’re there, do you think you could stop at the GUNDAM BASE for me? I’m looking for a specific Gunpla and I couldn’t find it in Akihabara.”

“No,” Sora didn’t miss a beat. “I’m absolutely not going there. That place is a confusing hellhole on the best of days and I am hoping to just go to my parents, have dinner, pick up some fabric I have there, and get back to Koenji by sundown.”

“Fine,” Taichi tapped his racket on the ground. “I’ll go next time I see my folks. But let me know if you need to get a drink after seeing your parents. Mimi and I will make time.”

Sora bumped her knee against his. “Thanks Taichi,” she said, smiling softly. “I’m sure it’s going to go just about as well as all of my other visits.”

“Which is to say?”

“It will be a tense, unenjoyable time for everyone, but we’ll still grit our teeth and smile like everything’s okay.”

“Yikes,” Taichi winced. “Otherwise, is school going alright? You said it was rough for a while there.”   
  
Sora nodded. “Things have gotten a little better in terms of coursework lately. I’ve had a bit of a burst of inspiration and I ended up getting great marks on a knitwear piece I was convinced I was going to fail.” 

Smiling, Taichi placed his hands behind his head. “I’m glad to hear it! Now, I wouldn’t be Mimi’s boyfriend if I didn’t ask,” he grinned, “but would you say any of this happiness has to do with that barista you’re into?”

Sora groaned, her cheeks flushing a hot red. “Not you, too! I’m not into the barista!”

Taichi laughed. “It’s written all over your face. I’m not sure who you think you’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Sora covered her face, feeling like she was on fire. “I’m not into Yamato-san!”

“ _ Yamato-san?! _ ” Taichi exclaimed, “you know his name?! I have to text Mimi.”

“No!” Sora whacked him on the arm. “I’ll never hear the end of it!”

To her dismay, Taichi was already pulling out his phone. “Are you kidding? I would never hear the end of it if I didn’t!”

Sighing, Sora leaned against the bench as Taichi tapped away on his phone. Despite how obnoxious Taichi was being about it, she couldn’t deny that there was some validity to what he was saying.

The truth was (and she would only admit this to herself) she had a crush on Yamato, and the feelings that gave her certainly had given a bit of a spring in her step. In fact, she was planning on making a quick stop at the coffee shop that afternoon after picking up some fabric. 

She flushed deeper at the thought of seeing him again. 

“Anyway,” Taichi stood up and stretched. “It’s been closer to ten minutes than five and my nausea seems to have dissipated slightly. Ready to jump back into it?”

Sora nodded. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“Did you want to get dinner with Kou later, by the way?” Taichi asked as they walked back to the court. “You never answered.”

Thinking it over, Sora nodded. If they went in the evening, she could still run her errands (and hopefully see Yamato) before meeting up with them. “Sure! I haven’t seen Koushiro in a while.”

Back at the bench, she could hear her phone vibrating aggressively in her bag. That was probably Mimi, sending a mass inquisition about how she knew Yamato’s name. 

_ Stupid _ Taichi. 

Scooping up the ball off the court, Sora walked to the baseline. “My serve,” she said, before sending the ball flying across to Taichi with an aggressive smack.

“Holy shit!” he called, “what was _ that _ ?!”

Sora grinned. 

x x x

  
  


The only reason Sora had chosen Textile World TOA to pick up her latest stock of fabric was in hopes that she would see Yamato. 

This was not something that she would ever admit to anyone other than herself and especially not to her incredibly nosey friends who pried into her every move (didn’t they have anything better to do than yammer on about her potential love life?). But the fact remained that out of all of the fabric shops in the city, she chose this shop for it’s relative proximity to the cafe Yamato worked at. 

If you called a twenty-one minute walk ‘ _ relative proximity _ ’. 

Since that night where Yamato had shown such unexpected kindness to her, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. The very thought of him, with that soft, slight smile and light blue eyes, made her heart flutter. 

And she had  _ many _ thoughts of him; she couldn’t help wondering what he was like, what he did in his spare time, and what his friends were like.

All of this pondering also included wondering if he had a girlfriend, which she concluded he must. Of  _ course _ he did; boys who looked like that and who carried themselves like that always did. She was kidding herself if she thought for one minute he might be single. 

Still, it was harmless to think about him, right? And to hope that when she stopped by the cafe, he would be there? After all, the last time she had visited, it had been so busy that he hadn’t really had a moment to spare, giving her a quick hi, how are you, before going back to churning out drinks. 

Stepping into the cafe that afternoon, a tote bag full of fabric samples and thread under her arm, Sora mentally crossed her fingers that it was less busy than the week before.

Sora smiled to herself; she had come at a good time. To her delight, the cafe was practically dead, with only a couple of patrons mulling about, typing away at laptops or reading.    


She was surprised to see Yamato at the register, leaning over a large textbook. He straightened as she approached. 

“Hey,” he said, swiping the textbook away and settling it on the back counter. “How’s it going?”

Sora smiled as she stepped up. “Good,” she said, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder. “You’re at the register today?”

Yamato nodded. “It’s pretty quiet, so it’s just myself and my coworker - I’m covering both stations while she’s on break.”

“Oh, nice,” Sora commented. “It is a little quiet; the last time I was here, you guys were slammed.”

Yamato nodded. “It is. We don’t experience crazy rushes a lot, but every once in a while a slew of people will come in all at once.”

Sora frowned. “That must be difficult to manage.”

“It’s not bad,” Yamato gave a little shrug. “Keeps us on our toes. But I can’t say I don’t prefer it when it’s a little quieter. Gives me time to study.”

Sora perked up - he was a student? For some reason, she hadn’t even considered that a possibility; he suddenly seemed even more attractive to her. “That makes sense,” she said with a nod. 

“So,” Yamato folded his arms and leaned against the counter. “What brings you in today?”

“I was just out running some errands in the neighborhood,” i _ f twenty minutes away countered as in the neighborhood, she thought to herself. _ “Felt I could use a little coffee to perk me up after battling the crowds.”

Yamato gave a little half smile. “Ah, so it wasn’t just the burning desire to see me?”   


Feeling her skin instantly flush, Sora’s mind went into overdrive. He hadn’t just said that,  _ had _ he?    
  
“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his own skin tinged pink. “Bad joke. What can I get started for you?”

Sora swallowed, feeling nervous. She must have heard him incorrectly - there was  _ no way _ he was actually flirting with her. “Could I get an iced latte to-go, please?” she asked, pulling out her wallet. As much as she wanted to stick around, she had to run to Matsumoto Kiyoshi to pick up a new eyeliner and shampoo before heading back to her apartment to get changed before meeting Koushiro and Taichi later. 

“Sure,” Yamato said, punching in her order at the register. “Not sticking around today?”

She shook her head. “I have a couple more things to do before I meet up with some friends tonight,” she explained, “so I’m on a bit of a time crunch.”

“Ah,” Yamato nodded. “Understandable. That comes to 500 yen.”

Swiping her card at the terminal, Sora punched in her pin. “Are you working late?” 

“Just for another hour or so,” Yamato said, handing Sora her receipt, “then I’m off to meet some friends as well.”

“That sounds nice,” Sora smiled. “The weather is pretty warm outside.”

Yamato nodded, stepping away from the register to head to the end of the counter. “Yeah, it’s not too bad. A little warm for my liking, but can’t complain.”

Following him, Sora leaned next to the rows of milks and sugars, watching Yamato prepare the espresso for her drink. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt today, along with a some sort of necklace made out of a leather string. She appreciated it; he obviously put effort into his appearance. 

Yamato’s eyes fell on her and she blushed.  _ Shoot; he caught her staring _ .

If he found it awkward, he didn’t say anything, merely glancing away and grabbing a plastic cup and filling it with ice. “What kind of errands were you running?”

Sora felt herself flush even further — god, she must have been bright red by this point — and instinctively hugged her bag closer to her side. She did not want to tell him she had been fabric shopping. “Oh, just picking up some shampoo and stuff at the drugstore.” It wasn’t a total lie — she was headed there next. 

“Boring stuff, then,” Yamato gave her a slight grin to show that he was joking. 

“ _ Necessary _ stuff,” she corrected “but yes, boring.” Her eyes fell back over to the large textbook laying open against the back counter. “So you study in between customers on days like this?”

“Yeah,” Yamato bent down to get milk from the fridge. “It helps keep me on track. Sorry, I didn’t ask what kind of milk you wanted — any preference?”

“Almond,” Sora said, without really thinking. Why hadn’t she considered that he would be a student? In her mind, she had firmly placed him as a struggling musician type, slogging away long hours at the coffee shop to make ends meet. Of course, she only saw him for a small fraction of time each week; that was silly of her to assume she had any idea what he did with all of the hours and days she didn’t see him. “What are you studying?” 

Yamato pulled the milk out of the fridge, setting it down on the counter. “Aerospace engineering,” he said casually, pouring the espresso shot over the ice. “I’m in my last year before grad school.”

Blinking, Sora paused for a beat. OK, she really hadn’t been expecting that. “Aerospace engineering?” Oh my  _ god _ . “That sounds complicated.”

Picking up the milk, Yamato shrugged. “It’s not bad.”

“What do you do with that?” Sora asked, feeling suddenly shy.  _ Aerospace engineering _ ? What was he, some kind of  _ genius _ ? She was a fashion major, for goodness sake! How embarrassing in comparison. 

Pouring the milk over the ice and espresso, Yamato shrugged again. “Not one-hundred percent sure yet,” he said, setting the milk down and reaching for a lid. “Maybe something in aircraft design, maybe something in research, maybe an astronaut if I wanna go all out. We’ll see. I haven’t really decided yet.”

“Oh,” Sora felt her voice get stuck in her throat. An astronaut? An  _ astronaut _ ? “Wow, that’s...that’s pretty impressive.

Yamato rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the ground. “Um, not really, just some ideas. A few of the career paths available out of many.”

“Yama-chan,” the soft, high voice of his coworker called out. Across the cafe, the girl with the grey bob was back. She stretched and yawned.“I’m back from break!” 

“Thanks Minako-chan,” Yamato said over his shoulder. He placed a lid on Sora’s drink and slid it over to her. “One iced latte for Sora-san.”

Sora picked up her latte. She loved the way he said her name. “Thank you,” she reached over and grabbed a straw. “I had better get going.”

Yamato nodded, capping the almond milk. “Good luck with the rest of your errands.”

“Good luck with studying,” Sora said with a smile. “Have a good evening, Yamato-san.”

He paused, almond milk still in hand, and smiled softly, the expression just reaching his eyes. Sora melted at the sight. “You too.”

Lifting her hand in a small wave, Sora turned and made her way out of the coffee shop, once again trying to still her pounding heart. 

Back on the streets, the cool, late afternoon hit her face and Sora instantly felt more relaxed. Why did every interaction with Yamato leave her feeling so intense? You would think she had never spoken to a man before the way her heart beat.    


Sora turned everything she knew about Yamato over in her head, taking stock. Firstly, was that he worked at the coffee shop frequently enough that there was at least a 50/50 chance she’d see him any time she went by. Secondly, based on what Taichi and Mimi said, he was in a band that had to practice enough to secure live gigs. And lastly, he studied aerospace engineering, which meant…

Well, Sora wasn’t really one-hundred percent sure what that meant. He must have been super smart to be studying it, but how smart exactly? How demanding was it? Her knowledge on the subject was admittedly pretty limited. She would have to ask Koushiro later; he would know. 

Oh  _ no _ , she thought to herself, was he as smart as Koushiro? What then?

x x x

“Have you checked the class-inheritance?” Koushiro said into the phone, running his hand through his hair. “Not that? What about the UML notation?” He paused, nodding. “If it’s not that, I think I would have to look at the script when I get home, honey.”

Sora raised her beer to her lips and took a long drink, catching Taichi’s eye across the table. He lifted his eyebrows before smirking into his own beer. 

Beside them, Koushiro continued to prattle away on the phone to his girlfriend, Miyako, about some problem she was experiencing in the code for the software she was developing. At least, that’s what Sora figured they were talking about. Truthfully, it was all Greek to her.

Koushiro and Miyako were both brilliant computer scientists, easily the smartest of their group and naturally, they made something of a superhuman power couple. Sometimes, Sora couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be that into science and computers; what would they talk about at dinner time? Quantum physics? Sora would never be able to keep up.

Not that she necessarily wanted to; computer sciences and technology had never been her thing. Taking another sip of beer, Sora remembered her conversation with Yamato earlier in the day. 

She wondered if they were  _ his _ thing. 

“Sorry about that,” Koushiro said, setting down his phone and picking up his chopsticks. “Miyako is wrapping up a huge assignment for her final semester and something in the code isn’t working. I told her I’d take a look at it when I get home, but chances are she’ll have figured it out before I get there.”

Taichi took a bite of his tonkatsu. “No sweat, man,” he said between mouthfuls, “I couldn’t understand anything you were saying, so you could have literally told me anything and I would have believed it. But, on the off chance you have some spare time this evening, wanna help out with that thing Mimi keeps asking you about for her website?”

“No, absolutely not,” Koushiro snapped, stabbing at his pork with his chopsticks. “There are many other things I would like to do than touch the back end of that site again.”

“Come on, Kou,” Taichi slumped over, “It apparently will make a huge difference in her conversion rate. It’s not like she’s asking you to do it for free; you know she’ll pay you. She’s been begging you for weeks. She’s even started using the voice she reserves for me to ask you.”

Shaking his head, Koushiro picked up his bowl of rice. “That’s cause she wants four hours of work in two, on a website that is made up of the messiest string of code I have ever seen in my life,” he said, taking a bite. “Every time I go in there, I end up correcting something that is one plugin error away from crashing the whole thing. She knows she’s asking a lot.”

“If it’s four hours of work and she wants it done in two, that probably means you can do it in one,” Taichi said pointedly. 

Koushiro sighed. “Fine. I’ll think about it. But if I can’t navigate my way through the code for the landing page within the first five minutes, I’m done. I’m sorry, but it’s just too much to ask.”

Taichi grinned and raised his beer. “Cheers to that, man! At least we can say you tried.”

Koushiro laughed, lifting his own beer. They clinked their bottles in a half-hearted cheers.

“You guys are so weird,” Sora hummed, chewing a mouthful of rice. “Congratulating each other over a future attempt to update Mimi’s website.”

Taichi knocked her knee with his. “I’m sorry, I can’t listen to Mimi complain about it anymore,” he set his beer down. “It’s driving me crazy.”

“I mean, if that’s the excuse you want to go with, sure,” Sora piled more rice on top of her chopsticks. 

“What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

“It means that you did it cause Mimi has you whipped,” Koushiro said matter of factly. “You did it cause you want to see her happy, not because you can’t stand her complaining.”

“I am not whipped!” Taichi hissed. “I’m just trying to be a good boyfriend.”

“Sure,” Koushiro folded his hands under his chin. “If that’s what being at your girlfriend’s beck and call is referred to now-a-days.”

Taichi guffawed. “Excuse me, but who was just sitting here on their phone trying to help his own girlfriend with a school project?” Koushiro flushed and averted his gaze. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Please shut up,” Sora groaned, leaning back in her chair. “The last thing this dinner needs is some strange coded competition about who is the better boyfriend.”

Taichi opened his mouth to speak, but Koushiro cut him off. “You’re right, Sora. Thank you,” he smiled, shooting their friend a look across the table. “How have you been? How is school?”

Sora shrugged. “The usual. Demanding. I’m making some good progress on my final project, though.”

“Oh, yeah?” Taichi raised his eyebrows beside her. “You haven’t mentioned that in a while.”

Nodding, Sora took a sip of beer. “Yeah, I currently have four pieces done. Still playing with textures and things of that nature, but it’s coming along. My professor says it’s ‘promising’. Whatever that means.”

“I think it means that it has a lot of promise,” Koushiro said helpfully. Taichi shot him a look. 

Laughing, Sora shook her head. “Thanks Kou. It’s just stressful; there’s a lot riding on it. I’ll be able to use the final pieces in my portfolio and hopefully they can secure me some kind of internship or apprenticeship or something like that. I guess we’ll see.”

Biting into another piece of pork, Taichi tilted his head to the side. “Is that what you want to do next?”

Sora bit her lip. There it was; the dreaded question. “I’m not really sure,” she admitted, “but it’s an option and I want to keep that open, so I really want to do my best.”

Koushiro raised his glass and Taichi followed suit. “Best of luck, Sora!” Taichi said brightly. “We know you’ll do great.”

Smiling, Sora raised her own glass and clinked it against theirs. “Thanks guys.”

“Miyako and I will definitely be at the final show,” Koushiro said, “we can’t wait to see it.”

“I hope it lives up to your expectations,” Sora smiled, though her heart was pounding at the thought of them seeing her work. The vision of her smart, successful friends coming together to see her fashion designs made her inwardly cringe. 

As the three fell into a companionable silence, eating and drinking merrily, Sora remembered her conversation with Yamato earlier that afternoon around his own major. She wondered if she could discreetly prod Koushiro for more info. 

“Hey, Koushiro?” Sora began. “Can I ask you something kind of random?”

Koushiro nodded. “Sure. Anything!”

Sitting up a little straighter, Sora thought about how to approach the question. If she tried to give any background information or context, they would be onto her in a second. Best to go with it as randomly as possible. 

“I have been thinking about the term ‘it isn’t rocket science’ lately,” she fibbed, “which got me thinking about the actual practice of rocket science, which I understand is aerospace engineering. Which made me wonder, is aerospace engineering really that hard?”

Koushiro furrowed his brows. “Is aerospace engineering hard?” he parroted back at her. “Well, it’s not easy.”    


“Oh yeah? What does it require?”

“Hmm,” Koushiro murmured, chewing thoughtfully. “It involves a lot of high level math, chemistry, and physics work, and that’s before you even get into the actual coursework,” he explained. “It’s more difficult than other forms of engineering, like mechanical or electrical, and the coursework demands a really rigorous and disciplined workload.”

Sora bit her lip. How in the world  _ did _ Yamato have time for everything then? “I see. And if one had a degree in Aerospace Engineering, what would they do with it? Could they become an astronaut?”

“Sure,” Koushiro continued, picking up a gyoza and dragging it to his plate, “but you’d also need an advanced degree in science, plus some specialization in something like Nuclear Fusion. Not to mention, you’d need to be fluent in both English and Japanese, and probably Russian, and need a set amount of work experience. Also, these are just the requirements for JAXA, so if you wanted to be an astronaut in a different country, that’s a whole other set of requirements.”

“I see,” Sora said, her mind running on overdrive. This meant that Yamato had to be really, really  _ smart _ . “Interesting.”

A silence fell over the table. Koushiro and Taichi exchanged a glance. 

“Why do you want to know about aerospace engineering, Sora?” Taichi asked, resting his chin on his hand. “All because of an English phrase?”

“Well, yeah,” she winced. Taichi was onto her. “My mind kind of ran away with it. I was just curious.”

“Prettyyyyyyy random,” Taichi sing-songed, “some might say tooooo random.”

Sora scoffed. “What is that supposed to mean? It’s not  _ that _ random.”

“No, it’s pretty random,” Koushiro agreed. “I can’t say I’ve ever really discussed the academic requirements for aerospace engineering before. Especially not over dinner.”

Sora was silent, unsure of how to proceed. What was she supposed to say? “ _ Sorry Kou, Taichi, I’m just crushing hard on this barista at a cafe in Omotesando and it turns out he is studying Aerospace Engineering and might want to be an astronaut and I am having a meltdown over it because I am a fashion student who practices ikebana on the side and plays tennis sometimes and I am feeling hopelessly inadequate cause you just confirmed my suspicions that he is very, very smart and therefore, on the slight off-chance that he doesn’t have a girlfriend, may never ask me out cause if you didn’t hear it the first time, I am a fashion student and the most math I can do is basic measurements for patterns. _ ”

“You guys spend too much time with your girlfriends,” Sora scoffed. “Looking for things that aren’t there, obsessing over every word. It was just a random question I have been thinking about. Koushiro’s the smartest out of all of us; of course I’m going to ask him.”

“Uh uh,” Koushiro said slowly. “Sora, I would say you’re the weird one at this table, not Taichi and I.”

Taichi slammed his hand down on the table. “Thank you! I’ve been telling her she’s a weirdo for years.”

Rolling her eyes, Sora tucked back into her beer.  _ Better to let this one go _ , she thought, as Koushiro and Taichi began yammering amongst themselves.  _ Definitely _ better to let it go. 

x x x

Waiting in the elevator of her parents building, Sora tried to quell the nerves in her stomach. 

The impending sense of doom had wiggled its way under her skin the night before as the hours ticked closer and closer to when she would have to see them again. Since starting at Bunka, she had been increasingly nervous every time she visited, waiting for an interrogation on her life choices, but as graduation loomed nearer, this feeling only exacerbated. 

Needless to say, she hadn’t been home in nearly two months, and as the elevator made its way up to her parents floor, she started to feel more and more anxious. 

It was true what they say, she thought, that you could never really go home again. Visiting Odaiba felt foreign and familiar all at once, like a place she had seen in a dream rather than the city she had called home for so long. Her parents’ apartment felt like a hotel, albeit one where she was required to clean her own towels, but still one that she was a guest in, as opposed to the place where she grew up. 

It was unsettling; this feeling of displacement. 

The elevator doors slid open and Sora let out a heavy sigh. The woman in the elevator with her, holding a small child, shot her a startled look and Sora flushed, bowing awkwardly. 

Great, she thought as she stepped out of the elevator. Now her parents’ neighbor probably thought she was dramatic.

Despite her qualms about visiting, the whole get-together had been Sora’s idea. Her mother, an ikebana Grand Master, was known for the detailed and gorgeous custom kimonos she wore while practicing and as a result, had a large box of fabric samples from various designers she had worked with over the years. 

As she worked on the concept of her final presentation, along with some personal projects, Sora couldn’t help but think that they would tie in beautifully, so she had called her mother and requested to come pick them up. Her mother had agreed, but had then requested that if Sora was coming all that way, she could at least stay for dinner. Sora had halfheartedly accepted. 

Setting her shoulders back and standing a little straighter, Sora raised her chin and pushed open the door to her parents apartment. The familiar smell of yuzu and sandalwood hit her nostrils, making her feel nostalgic and overwhelmed all at once; her mother had burned the same candles since she was young. 

“Mama? Papa?” she called out, sliding off her shoes in the genkan. Bending down, she popped open the small shoe cabinet by the door and began fishing for her slippers. “I’m home!”

“Sora?” her mother called back from the other room. “Is that you?”

Digging through the cabinet, Sora tried not to roll her eyes. “Yes, it’s me, Mama. Unless there’s someone else who calls you Mama that you haven’t told me about.”

“Don’t be smart, Sora.”

“Sorry, Mama.” Her slippers, the ridiculous Korilakkuma ones Jyou had bought her a few years back, were nowhere to be seen. “Have you seen my slippers?”

Turning the corner, her mother appeared in the entryway, looking as stunning as ever. Even in her mid-fifties, Toshiko Takenouchi still had dark, jet black hair, pulled back from her face with a pearl comb. She was dressed casually, in a deep red top and black pants, and smiled upon seeing her daughter.

“Let me help,” Toshiko said, stepping down into the genkan, “they’re there; you can just never look for trying.”

Sora folded her arms. “It’s not my fault the cabinet is a cluttered mess. Do you really need to keep the Dragon Ball slippers Taichi wore in tenth grade?”

Her mother crouched down, scooting Sora over so she could look. “He might need them when he comes and visits.”

At this, Sora giggled. “Mama, I doubt they’ll fit him now.” Besides, it was nearly impossible to get Taichi to visit his  _ own _ parents, never mind someone else’s. 

“They’ll do in a pinch,” Toshiko replied, retrieving the pair of bear slippers. Rising, she handed them to her daughter. “Here you go.”

Taking them, Sora frowned. “I honestly don’t understand how you found them in there.”

“Don’t dwell on that,” Toshiko began walking into the kitchen. “Come help me with dinner.”

Heading into the apartment, Sora took in the familiar scenery; the shiny wooden floors, the traditional sliding doors, the purple tile in the kitchen. Various artworks hung on the walls and flower vases with beautiful arrangements covered nearly every surface. The laundry was strung out to dry on the balcony. Just down the hall and to the right her own room, with its tatami floors and polka dot curtains, was waiting for her like a time capsule. 

Pausing in the living room, Sora took in the view out the window - Rainbow Bridge and Tokyo Bay could be seen in clear view. How many times had she stared out this window?

_ God _ , she thought,  _ being home was weird.  _

“Sora,” her mother said again, this time more pointedly. “Come help with dinner.”

Turning on her heel, Sora headed into the kitchen and surveyed the scene around her. On the counter sat a couple of sweet potatoes, along with renkon and goya. “Do you want me to chop these up?”

Toshiko nodded. “Yes, please, we’ll need those for the tempura. You can heat the oil when you are done. I’ll get a pot.”

Lifting the knife, Sora got to work. “Where’s Papa?”

“He’s on his way home,” Toshiko said, around the sound of clattering pots and pans. “He texted me to say he was headed to the subway not too long before you arrived.”

“Ah,” Sora began chopping the goya. “So he should be home soon then, huh?”

“Probably in less than half an hour,” Toshiko glanced at the clock. “Give or take.”

“Sounds good.”

A silence fell around them, the sounds of the bubbling water on the stove and Sora’s knife hitting the cutting board echoing throughout the small kitchen. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. Sora felt the need to fill the gaps and the spaces between them, as if each moment that remained quiet would lead to something sinister. 

“How have you been, Mama?” she asked, clearing the board of the goya and setting to work on the sweet potatoes. “Have things been busy at the school?”

Setting a package of soba down next to the stove, Toshiko nodded. “Yes, it’s been quite hectic. We’re preparing for an exhibit in the coming weeks, so the students are all working tirelessly to put forward their best efforts.”

Sora smiled. “Oh, that’s great! I hope they aren’t working themselves too hard.”

“Yes, well,” Toshiko leaned against the counter, “they’re all very dedicated, so even if I were to tell them to rest, I doubt they would. Their passion for the practice is very admirable.”

Sora smiled a little tighter. “When and where is the exhibition? I would love to come.”

“It’s in Shibuya on the 24th,” her mother said, turning back to the stove. “I’ll email you the details.”

“Okay,” Sora returned to her sweet potatoes. “That sounds good.”

The two worked in silence once more, Sora chopping away while Toshiko prepared the tempura batter. This was nice, Sora thought, even though the silence was still intimidating. Maybe they would get through this visit without any overtly tense moments.

“I ran into Yuuko Yagami at OK Supermarket last week,” Toshiko piped up, cracking an egg into a small dish. “She mentioned that Taichi-kun was looking for an internship this summer in public policy?”

Sora nodded, setting aside the last of the sweet potatoes and moving onto the renkon. “Yeah, he’s really determined to find something to build his resume before graduate school. I don’t know if he’s looking anywhere specific just yet, but he’s keeping his options open.”

“Good for him,” Toshiko stirred the egg with a pair of chopsticks. “Who would have thought the boy with the grass stained knees and the bruised limbs from all that soccer you two played would be interested in public policy?”

“Mama,” Sora laughed, “we were just kids. People grow up.”

“Indeed they do,” Toshiko agreed, “Yuuko-san also mentioned that his girlfriend, your friend Tachikawa-chan, has her own online store? That’s impressive. How come you never told me about it?”

Stiffening, Sora slowed her motions as she chopped. She had never mentioned Mimi’s shop because the last thing she needed was her mother knowing that Mimi was already well on her way to being successful before Sora had even graduated. “Ah, it must have slipped my mind. I’m sorry.”

Toshiko tsked. “Well, I think that’s fantastic. It’s great that you have such driven, motivated friends, Sora.”

Feeling the irritation creeping up on her, Sora sliced through the renkon a little more aggressively. “Yes, it’s great, Mama.”

“How is school going for you?”Toshiko said as she added the beaten egg to a small bowl of flour. 

“Fine,” Sora gritted her teeth. “It’s going fine.”

“That’s good,” Toshiko responded. She began mixing the batter. “Have you given more thought to what you want to do after graduation?”

Hitting the cutting board forcefully with her knife, Sora closed her eyes. There it was. This had to be a new record, at least; her mother had lasted all of what, twelve minutes? Before she brought up Sora’s post graduation plans.

“I’m always thinking about it, Mama,” Sora replied, bracing herself on the counter. “But if you’re asking if I have a set plan just yet, no, I don’t.”

A beat passed and then Toshiko sighed. “Sora, that worries me; you’re just months away from graduation and you don’t have a plan.”

“I have options,” Sora took a deep breath, trying not to let her irritation show. “I can intern or apprentice for a designer, or I can try to find a job at a fashion house or working for a designer or something else entirely.”

Setting the bowl of tempura batter on the counter, Toshiko sighed “But isn’t that too broad, Sora? Isn’t there something you specifically would like to do?”

“I don’t know,” Sora said forcefully, setting the knife down. “I’ll figure it out. You don’t need to worry.”

Toshiko let out an exasperated puff of breath. “I don’t need to worry? Of course I need to worry. My only daughter stands in front of me, months before her graduation, and tells me she doesn’t know what she’s going to do. How can that not worry me?”

“Because I told you, I’ll figure it out,” Sora turned to face her mother. “I always do.”

Her mother stared at her, hard. “That doesn’t make me worry any less, Sora.”

“Why are you worried?” Sora snapped, now fully annoyed. “Are you worried about how it will look to have the Grand Master’s daughter adrift after school?”

“No,” Toshiko said, narrowing her eyes. “I’m worried because you don’t seem to know what you’re doing. I can’t help but feel as you get closer to graduation, with no goals or plans for the future, that my concern is proving to be valid.”

Sora folded her arms. “I know you think this program was a mistake,” she hissed, “you’ve made that very clear from the moment I received my acceptance letter. But this was my decision. My choice. When are you going to accept that?”

“I have accepted it,” Toshiko folded her own arms. “I have long since accepted it. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t worry.”

“Oh my god!” Sora exclaimed, “Why can’t you just support me in this?”

“ I do support you!” Toshiko shot back. “I let you go to Bunka, didn’t I? I pay for this education, didn’t I?”

“That’s not support,” Sora rolled her eyes, “that’s the bare minimum. Support would be believing me when I say I’m going to figure it out. Support would be showing interest in what I’m doing there.”

At this, Toshiko looked hurt. “I show an interest. But any time I ask about school, all I hear about is that the course work is demanding or that you don’t feel like talking about it. How can I not worry? Since your second year, you’ve seemed overwhelmingly tired every time you come over, constantly exhausted from school. You push your father and I further and further away every time we see you. Not to mention, you broke up so abruptly with Jyou that I—”

“Mama!” Sora said harshly, “do not drag Jyou into this!” 

“I’m sorry, but Sora, one day you two were practically planning your futures together and the next you’re calling me to say you broke up with him. It came out of no where,” Toshiko raised her hands helplessly. “You two had plans together —  _ you _ had plans — and suddenly you’ve just abandoned them?” 

“Plans change,” Sora’s voice had taken on a bitter edge, “people change. Jyou’s plans changed. He’s moving to Morioka now. With his new girlfriend. My plans will change, too. So if you have hopes for a reunion, you can scrap them.”

Toshiko frowned. “Sora, I wasn’t suggesting—”

“Where is that box of fabric I was looking for?” Sora cut her mother off. “I want to go through it quickly.”

Toshiko was quiet for a moment, as if weighing her options. “It’s in your room.”

“Thanks,” Sora motioned to the vegetables on the counter. “I’ll come cook these if you can heat up the oil. Don’t cut up any more renkon; I hate it anyway.”

Stepping out of the kitchen, Sora walked down the hall, hot tears blurring her vision. She hoped her mother didn’t see them.

“I’m home!” her father’s voice boomed from the front door. “How are my two favourite ladies?!”

Taking a deep breath, Sora flung open her bedroom door and stepped inside. 

  
  


x x x

Sliding the door to her bedroom shut, Sora let out a deep breath, one she hadn’t realized she was holding. 

Why did she and her mother have to argue every time she came over? She thought as she leaned against the door. She hadn’t been expecting any less the moment she had walked through the door, but she couldn’t deny that she always held just a little bit of hope that maybe, just maybe, they would get through one visit without one of them yelling. 

Shaking her head, she propped herself off the door and surveyed the room. It really was a shrine to her high school self, she mused, the shelves still lined with soccer trophies and posters for musical groups who weren’t even together anymore plastering the walls. The futon she had spent so many years sleeping on sat rolled up and tucked away in the corner and her desk was covered in old sketch books and photos. 

Making her way over, she flipped open one of the sketchbooks. Thumbing through the pages, she couldn’t help but laugh; some of her old designs were so juvenile, obviously ripped out of the streets of Harajuku with rainbow colours, extra frills, and lace. Landing on a sketch of a striped cardigan with a bow tie collar, she recalled sewing it and forcing Mimi to model. Where had she put that thing? It had to be around here somewhere. 

Closing the sketchbook, she looked over at the row of picture frames still sitting on her desk. One of her, Taichi, and Mimi eating Garigari-kun popsicles on the beach. Another of she and Mimi sitting on the steps in the Festival Plaza at Divercity, flashing peace signs at the camera. She and Taichi, muddy and sweaty, arms around each other after a soccer tournament. She and Jyou, in the observatory of Mori Art Museum, her head against his shoulder and Tokyo Tower shining in the background. A shot of all four of them at high school graduation. Another of her and her parents on the same day. 

Sora turned away. She needed to find that box of samples so this whole visit wouldn’t be a complete disaster. 

Sure enough, positioned near her futon, was a large cardboard box with layers and layers of fabric stacked on top of each other. Kneeling down, Sora dragged it over carefully, mindful of the tatami, and began rummaging through. 

Each piece of fabric was beautiful in its own way, bright flowers in delicate patterns woven with golden thread or bright, bold cherry blossoms on stark backgrounds. Her mother had always put effort into her appearance and as a Grand Master, she took her kimonos very seriously. 

Feeling a lump in her throat, Sora ran her fingers over a piece of thin, blue fabric, dotted with small, bright cherry blossoms, and willed herself not to cry. 

The sound of the door sliding open behind her startled her slightly. Sora didn’t need to look up to know who was there, but she did anyway, glancing over her shoulder. 

“Hi,” her father, Haruhiko said, smiling cautiously as he slid the door shut. “Since when do you hate renkon?”

Staring blankly, Sora turned back to the box of fabric. “Since forever, Papa.”

Haruhiko walked across the room and stopped to sit beside her, cross legged. “Since forever?” he asked, resting his hands on his knees. “Why have you never said anything before?”

Rifling through the box, Sora shrugged. “I didn’t want to cause a fuss.”

Haruhiko chuckled. “Ah, yes, my only daughter Sora,” he teased, his tone light, “she never likes to cause a fuss when she comes home.”

Sora shot her father a glare. “She started it.”

Her father sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Sora…”

“Papa,” Sora pressed a hand to her temple, “don’t worry about it. It was nothing unusual. Same old same old. You don’t have to do this.”

For as long as she could remember, after an argument with her mother, her father would often try to clear things up between them. Going back and forth, trying to smooth things over. It seldom worked, but when she was younger, Sora appreciated the effort, comforted by the knowledge that at least one of her parents understood her. 

As an adult, however, this effort felt hollow, more of a learned behaviour than anything else. This was partly because at her age, Sora felt too old to be fighting with her mother like this, but also because she knew her father felt the same way her mother did. That Sora was lost, that she didn’t know what she was doing, and that that was reason for concern. 

Tapping his knees with his hands, Haruhiko smiled. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” Sora said, returning her focus to the box. “Mama didn’t say anything I hadn’t heard before.”

“She’s just worried, Sora,” Haruhiko said gently. “She’s your mom. It’s natural to worry.”

Turning over layers of red fabric, Sora glanced at her father out of the corner of her eye. “You speaking from a mutual experience, Papa?”

Her father stiffened. “Sora, I know you’re upset, but don’t look for a reason to fight with me, too.”

Sitting back on her heels, Sora sighed. “I’m sorry. But don’t pretend that you don’t think the same way as Mama does. This good cop, bad cop thing drives me nuts.”

Haruhiko leaned back and folded his arms. “It’s natural for parents to worry, Sora. It’s our job.”

“Maybe,” Sora bit her lip, “but there’s no reason for you to worry.”

Haruhiko lifted his open palms in a shrug. “It would be nice if you have a plan, Sora,” he said softly, “even if it was complicated, it would still be nice if you had one.”

“I’ll figure it out, Papa,” she said lowly, slipping her hand back inside the box. “I always do.”

“I know you will,” her father leaned over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Your mother knows you will, too. You’re  _ you _ , after all. But for now, we’re going to worry.”

Darting over at her father, Sora’s shoulders slumped. “You say that like you don’t wish every single day that I picked a different career path.”

Her father laughed. “Not every day, Sora,” Haruhiko said, beginning to stand up. “I only wish it any time I go to a shrine.”

Sora rolled her eyes. “Don’t you go at least once a week with Mama?”

Haruhiko nodded. “I do. It’s still not everyday at least.” He kicked at the box of fabric with his foot. “What did you want these old scraps for anyway?”

“I think I’m going to use them in a final project for the year-end exhibition,” Sora said, placing her hand on top of the box. “They’ll work nicely with some of my existing pieces.”

“Well,” Haruhiko slid his hands into the pockets of his pants and smiled, “I can’t wait to see them. Now come and help set the table; your old man is hungry.”

Propping herself up on her hands, Sora rose to follow her father. As she made her way out of the room, she paused at her desk, her eyes falling on the photo of she and Jyou. 

She stared down at the smiling faces of her younger self and her ex-boyfriend beaming up at her. _You two have no idea what’s coming._

Reaching over, she pushed the picture face down, and then turned to exit the room. 

x x x   
  


Adjusting the box of fabric in her arms, Sora did her best to maintain her balance on the subway. Her parents had asked if she wanted them to pay for a cab to take it all the way back to Koenji, but she had declined, stubbornly, still feeling singed after the argument with her mother. There was no way she was going to take money from her parents to transport fabric samples for her final project to her apartment. No  _ way _ . She would just drop it off at the studio in Shinjuku instead; the distance was considerably shorter. 

She regretted it the moment the subway doors closed behind her. 

The argument with her mother had left Sora feeling unsettled, like all of her arguments with her mother did. It wasn’t so much the negative emotions and adrenaline such interactions stirred up within her, but rather the sinking, suspicious feeling that her mother — and her father — was right. That everything she was working towards was a giant waste of time and she’d just end up taking over the ikebana school as the new grand master anyway. 

Sighing to herself, Sora shifted the heavy box of fabric samples in her hands, trying to keep her balance. Bringing it on the subway had been a mistake, that much was certain, as the box felt much heavier now that she had to hold it the whole 25 minute ride to Shinjuku Station. It only figured that there would be a crowd on the almost never crowded Rinkai Line when she needed a seat the most. The cardboard cut into her hands. 

Glancing around, Sora gingerly set the box down on the ground; as long as she picked it up before the next stop so people could get around it, it should be fine for a moment. 

Retrieving her phone from her purse, Sora opened a group chat labelled ‘SoMiChi’ and began typing.    
  
“ _ Help. Drinks needed _ ,” she typed quickly, pressing send. 

Her phone vibrated less than a minute later with a response from Taichi. 

“ _ On a scale of 1-10, how desperately are drinks needed? _ ”

Sora smirked. “ _ About a 45. _ ”

“ へ[ : ⊚ ﹏ ⊚ : ]ง ”

“ _ Oh nooooo, _ ” Mimi responded. “ _ We’re free! We’re just at Taichi’s place. Did you want to come by or go somewhere? _ ”

“ _ I can come by, _ ” Sora really didn’t feel like going out anywhere after that. “ _ I just need to drop some samples off at school. I’ll be there in about an hour? _ ”

A speech bubble popped up, signifying that Mimi was typing. “ _You got it!_ ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ _Taichi is leaving now to go to 7-11 to pick up the essentials. Any requests?_ ”

Sora paused, thinking for a moment. “ _ Shochu and peach Horoyoi? One of those souffle puddings if they have any left. _ ”

“ _ Ooh, me too, Taichi!  _ **٩(♡ε♡ )۶** _ I want a souffle pudding! _ ”   
  
“ _ Got it, _ ” Taichi replied. “ _ Be back soon. _ ”

“ _ Thank you, honey! _ (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧* ”

“ ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ”

Laughing at her friend’s back and forth, Sora sent out one final message. “Okay, I’ll text you guys when I’m on my way. I’ll see you soon!”

Slipping her phone back into her purse, she picked up the box off the ground. It was so heavy; what had she been thinking? Shifting the strap of her purse the best she could so it didn’t slip off her shoulders, she willed the train to go faster.

“The next station is Shinjuku,” the loud speaker boomed above her. “The doors on the right side will open. Please change here for the Yamanote Line, the Chuo Line, the Odakyu Line, the Keio Line, the Marunouchi Subway Line, the Shinjuku Subway Line, and the Oedo Subway Line.”    
  
Sora sighed in relief. Thank goodness they were almost there. She would drop this quickly off at the studio at Bunka and then hop back on the Yamanote Line to get to Takadanobaba to Taichi’s apartment.    
  
Getting off a crowded train was never the most easy of maneuvers; it always involved some form of shoving and pushing. But getting off a crowded train at Shinjuku was sometimes nearly impossible. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Sora murmured as she shuffled through the passengers to make her way to the door. “Sorry, I’m getting off.”

Fumbling her way forward with the box of fabric was proving to be the worst possible choice. She felt awkward, like a tourist with too much luggage, trying to shove her way past everyone.    


As the train slowed to a stop and the doors opened, Sora felt herself get carried with the wave of passengers. The box was getting crushed and jostled as persons moved past it. 

“Ah, sorry!” she yelped as she all but hopped off the train. “Sorry, sorry!”

In a moment that happened so fast that Sora felt dizzy, a businessman roughly pushed past her, just as she stepped onto the train platform. The swing of his bag smacked her in the hip sharply and she felt herself get knocked off balance.

Like something out of her worst nightmares, Sora tumbled forward and the box flew out of her hands, fabric falling everywhere. The passengers around her gasped. 

As her knees hit the pavement, Sora felt both pain and embarrassment.  _ Why hadn’t she just taken a cab?! _

“I’m fine,” she said, springing up and into action. She waved to the gawking passengers with a smile, hoping it masked the intense, sharp pain she was feeling in her knees. “I’m fine!”

Persons around her dissipated, eager to get away from the scene, and Sora began scrambling to pick up the sheets of fabric around her. God, they really were everywhere. 

“Let me help you,” she heard a deep voice say and saw someone bend down beside her. “The next train will be here shortly, so it’s best to get out the way.”

Sora snatched up a strip of purple fabric. “Oh, you don’t have to. I—” she glanced beside her and felt her blood stop in her veins. Crouched down beside her, wearing a leather jacket and looking as handsome as ever, was Yamato.

“Yamato-san?!” she exclaimed, shocked. He turned to her, a sheet of pink fabric in his hands. 

“Sora-san?” he said back, sounding equally as confused. 

Sora’s mouth dropped open. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m just coming back from a friend’s place,” he shoved the fabric into the box. “What are you doing here?”

Hurriedly picking up the other fabric, Sora shook her head. “I’m just trying to get home. Why are you helping me?”

“I heard all of the commotion and came over and saw the fabric everywhere,” he replied, looking confused. “I thought you could use some help.”

Sora winced, placing a hand on her face. “Did you really —”

“You two!” a voice called and Sora looked up to see one of the train security standing in front of her. “Clear this section! The next train will be coming in in one minute!”

Sora and Yamato nodded. “Yes sir,” Yamato said quickly, and together, the two scrambled to pick up the last remaining strips of fabric, before moving away from the platform. 

“Thank you,” Sora said, embarrassed, as they made their way down the platform stairs. “I can’t believe you saw all that.”

Yamato shrugged. “I didn’t see it. Just heard people gasping. But when I saw the fabric everywhere, I wanted to stop to help.”

Sora felt her face flush, even though she was certain she was already bright red. “Thank you,” she said softly, “most people would just rush out of the way.”

Flicking his eyes over to her and then away, Yamato shook his head. “It’s no problem. Did you fall? Are you okay?”

Sora nodded, though she was fairly certain her knees were still stinging; she couldn’t be sure, since her whole body felt like it had gone numb the moment she saw him. “I’m OK. My knees might be a little bruised, but I’m OK.”

“Good,” Yamato replied. “That’s good to hear.”

“I shouldn’t have taken this on the subway; it was a bad idea,” she said bashfully as they reached the bottom of the stairs, “but I was coming from Odaiba and I just didn’t want to take a cab.” Inwardly, she winced.  _ Way to go, Sora. Explain your ridiculous situation by letting him know how stubborn you are; he probably thinks you’re cheap.  _ “Which is to say, I typically would, but it’s just so far.”

Yamato smiled, turning the corner as they made their way to the tunstall. “I don’t blame you,” he said. “I grew up there and I haven’t taken a cab from Odaiba to anywhere in my life.” 

At this, Sora blinked. “You grew up there?” 

“Yeah,” Yamato said, looking confused. “When I was pretty young. Why?”

Sora shuffled the box in her hands again. “Oh, it’s just, so did I,” she said, feeling ridiculous. Why had she sounded so surprised when she had said that? It was hardly the first time she had met someone from Odaiba; Taichi, Mimi, and Jyou had all lived there as well.

“Oh?” Yamato raised his eyebrows. “Visiting parents?”

Sora nodded. “Yes, for dinner.” 

As they approached the turnstal, Yamato glanced at the box and then down to her bag. “Do you want me to hold that so you can get your pass card?”

“Oh!” she felt her face get warm. “Yes, that would be great. But what about you?”

“I keep mine in my phone case,” he said, pulling his phone out and showing her. “It’s easy to hit against the card reader even when I’m holding something.”

Nodding, Sora smiled. “Okay; thank you.” Stepping forward, he opened his arms to take it from her. Passing the box over to him, their hands brushed. 

A zap of electricity crackled through Sora at the contact and she immediately ducked her face down, busying herself with finding her Pasmo card.  _ That was ridiculous, _ she thought as she rummaged through her purse.  _ Your hands barely touched. Would you calm down?!  
_   
Retrieving her Pasmo card, she held it up in victory and gave a shy, flustered smile. “Found it!” she waved it back and forth. 

“Great,” Yamato said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a half smile. “Shall we?”

Following behind him, Sora watched as he effortlessly shifted the box to one arm and tapped his phone against the card reader. She found herself staring at the soft, blonde hair at the base of his neck, leading down to the lines of his shoulders underneath his leather jacket. 

She swallowed and quickly smacked her card against the reader. She needed to snap out of it. 

Safe on the other side of the turnstal, they walked out of the flow of traffic, positioning themselves in front of the large windows by Dean and Deluca. 

“Thanks for that,” Sora said, reaching her arms out to take the box. “Not just for carrying it, but for all your help back there. I really appreciate it.”

Handing the box back to her, Yamato shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “No worries. My mom’s really big on helping people who need it, worried that Japanese keep too much to themselves; she really hammered it into me as a kid.”

Sora smiled, taking the box from him (there was no hand brushing this time). “Well, you can thank your mother for me then.”

At this, Yamato smiled slightly. “I’ll give her a call.” He paused. “Where are you taking that anyway?”

“Um, nearby,” Sora smiled awkwardly, “Normally I would take another train to make the distance shorter, but after all that, I really don’t want to.”

Yamato raised an eyebrow. “So you’re going to…?”

“Walk, probably,” she chuckled. “It’s not ideal, but it’s not far; just about seven minutes.”

Yamato looked at her thoughtfully, as if debating something, before rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want some help?”

Sora blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“That box is pretty heavy,” he gestured to it, “and I’m not underestimating your strength or anything, but you have been carrying it for a while on the train, so it stands to reason that your arms might be feeling a little tired by now. So if you want, I can carry it for you to give them a break?”

Heart skipping a beat, Sora shook her head. How chivalrous! “Oh, you don’t have to do that! I’m sure you have places to be.”

“I don’t,” Yamato said quickly. “I mean, I do, but I’m not in a rush. I’m not meeting anyone or anything. I’m just in Shinjuku to go Disk Union. I have some time. Is what...I’m saying.”

His cheeks flushed a soft pink and Sora felt her heart pick up speed. Was he nervous? No, he couldn’t be; he must just be backtracking cause he revealed too much about his plans. 

But Sora was on her way to Bunka and if Yamato came with her, that would mean she would have to admit to being a fashion student. Her general mortification of her major, along with her recently acquired knowledge that he might be Koushiro-level smart had cemented that that was something she never,  _ ever _ wanted to do. 

So while the notion of him coming with her was appealing, she absolutely could not accept. 

“No, really, it’s okay,” she shook her head. “I can handle it.”

“I don’t want to push,” Yamato said cautiously, “but I really don't mind. You said seven minutes? That’s not won’t take long.”

Sora bit her lip. “Well, I —”

Yamato dropped his hands suddenly. “Sorry,” he said, taking a little step back. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable—”

“No!” Sora cut him off, shaking her head. “You’re not making me uncomfortable!”

Yamato’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh, well, that’s good, but I—”

“I just…” Sora trailed off, pursing her lips. How could she tell him, “ _ I would love for you to help me cause it would mean spending more time together, which is something I have daydreamt about since the very moment I laid eyes on you, but that would mean admitting I’m a fashion student, which I feel is very, very mortifying and I don’t want you to know _ ?”

But this was an opportunity - a  _ golden _ opportunity - to spend more time with him. To get to know him. How could she possibly turn it down, but how could she possibly reveal what she absolutely did not want him to know?

A beat passed between them. Yamato rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and shifted his weight to one foot. 

“Um, sorry,” he began, avoiding her gaze, “I really do seem to have made you uncomfortable. Sorry if I was too persistent; I’ll um, get going—”

“No, no,” Sora said impulsively and immediately regretted it. What was she doing?! “I would love it if you helped me. It would be great. My arms are really tired.”

Yamato narrowed his eyes slightly. “Are you sure?”

Sora nodded, almost too eagerly and inwardly winced. Would she just  _ shut up _ ? “Yes. My arms are really very tired. I just didn’t want to admit it because then I looked weak.”

Yamato laughed slightly. “I said I wasn’t underestimating your strength.”

“Exactly. So I definitely didn’t want to admit that I was tired after that.”

“OK. If you’re sure,” he said, looking conflicted.

“I’m sure,” Sora said quickly, her heart still pounding as she handed the box to him. What was she doing?! This would only lead to disaster. Maybe she could ditch him just a few doors down? Convince him that she was headed to an apartment or something so they wouldn’t have to go into Bunka. Then, once the coast was clear, she could dash up. Yes, that was it. That would work.

Adjusting the box in his arms, Yamato gave a small smile. “Where to?”

“Um,” Sora tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. What had she gotten herself into? “This way.”

Falling into step beside one another, they headed down the crowded streets of Shinjuku and Sora felt mortified. Why couldn’t she just gently turn him down and carry this stupid box herself? Now she was directly leading him to the one exact place that housed the very thing she did not want him to ever know. He was  _ maybe a genius _ and she was laying all the foundation for him to find out that she was nothing but a fashion student. Why had her heart won the race to her mouth before her brain could? Accepting his help before she could come up with a logical excuse. 

What a  _ disaster _ . 

They walked together in silence for the first minute or so. Was this a comfortable silence? Sora wondered. Or one she should try to fill it up? Should she say something? 

What if he had just offered to be nice? What if he hadn’t really wanted to help and she had roped him into something he didn’t want to do and then inadvertently let him know the very thing she didn’t want him to? The box  _ was _ heavy; maybe she should offer to carry some of the fabric. 

Clearing her throat slightly, Sora gestured to the box. “Do you want me to take some of the fabric out? To make it less heavy?”

Glancing at her, Yamato shook his head. “No, I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

“Oh. Um, good.”

“I mean, not that I’m suggesting that it’s too heavy for you,” he said quickly, “I just mean that I’m good...to carry it. That’s all.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t take it that way,” Sora said awkwardly. “So, no worries.”

“Okay. Um, good.”

Silence fell over them once more.

_ Say something to him, Sora! Her heart screamed. Say something. Say anything! Make this all worth it!  _

“So, not working today?” she asked, her voice a little too high for her liking. That was the best she could come up with?  _ That was the best she had?! _

Yamato nodded. “Yeah, I had the day off, so I went to go visit a friend in Shinagawa.”

“That sounds nice!”

“Yeah, it was good to see him. You said you went to Odaiba for dinner with your parents?”

Sora’s heart lurched, the thought of what had transpired mere hours ago running through her mind. Dinner had ended up being a stilled, awkward affair and she had all but bolted out the door once the dishes were clean. “Yes. Just a quick one. Usual monthly parental obligation; you know the drill.”

Beside her, Yamato was quiet before glancing down into the box of samples. “Yeah, for sure,” he said softly, quickly. Sora thought she detected a slight edge to his voice, but she couldn’t be sure. “Did you live in Odaiba your whole life?”

“My whole life, up until a few years ago when I moved further into the city for school,” Sora said with a nod, “My elementary, junior high, and high school years were all spent there. It wasn’t bad, but it’s sure not my speed now. You said that you were there when you were younger?”

“Yeah,” Yamato agreed, adjusting the box in his hands. “Up until around junior high. I liked it a lot. I was sad to leave.”

“Have you ever gone back recently?”

“Sometimes, though not much reason to. It seems to have a lot more tourists since they introduced that digital art exhibit.”

Sora rolled her eyes fondly. “No kidding, that place is influencer central.”

As they turned the corner, Bunka only a few blocks away, Sora started to feel nervous. This was getting way too close for comfort. She would have to cut him off soon. 

“Your friends haven’t been by at the coffee shop in awhile,” Yamato said quietly. “The pink haired one and her boyfriend.”

Sora’s eyebrows flew up, surprised. He had noticed? Of course, Mimi and Taichi were pretty loud and boisterous, with enough hair between them to cause any head to turn. “Oh, we’ve all been pretty busy. Iit’s been harder to find time to get together. I’m seeing them tonight, though.”

“That’ll be nice,” Yamato said, looking straight ahead. He cleared his throat before continuing. “You’ve come by a few times with another friend, too, but I don’t think I’ve really met him - red hair?”

“Oh,” Sora nodded; she had dragged Koushiro for a coffee on a few occasions. “Yeah, he kind of keeps to himself. He’s busier than my other friends, so it’s even harder to get him to go out.”

“Ahh,” Yamato nodded, ducking his head down. “Um, is he a boyfriend?”

Sora blinked, stunned. “Koushiro? My  _ boyfriend _ ?” she let out a snort, “oh, _ no _ , no, not at all. He’s just a friend; he’s got a girlfriend.”

“Ahh,” Yamato said once more, his cheeks a little pink. “Got it - sorry, I was just...he’s the only guy you come in one-on-one with. I didn’t mean to draw conclusions.”

“No, no worries,” Sora shook her head, even though she was internally screaming at the idea that someone thought Koushiro was her boyfriend; they were so platonic it practically  _ hurt _ . Why had Yamato wanted to know if she was Koushiro’s girlfriend? That made no sense. “   


Yamato nodded, surveying their surroundings. “Are we headed to Bunka?” he asked abruptly.

The wind practically knocked out of her, Sora realized they were mere steps away from the building entrance. How had she not noticed how close they were?! How had she let them get this far?!    
  
“Um, what?”

“Bunka Fashion College?” Yamato peered up at the front of the building a few feet away. “Are we stopping here?”

“Um,” Sora tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. How had he figured it out? Her heart was absolutely hammering in her chest. She was taking too long to answer. She had to say something, quick. “Um, why would we be going to Bunka?”

“Oh, it’s just...this is a box of fabric,” he said, giving it a slight shake, “and we’re right in front of Bunka. So I thought…?” he glanced over at her, looking confused. “Unless I’m wrong?”

Sora swallowed, inwardly panicking, hoping her face didn’t show how upset she was. How could she get out of this? How had she missed how close they were getting? That question about Koushiro had thrown her completely off.    
  
Now it was too late. What was she going to say that wouldn’t make her look completely crazy? What could she possibly say to cover this up? 

She had two options: lie between or teeth or admit the truth. 

Neither were very appealing; the first meant that there was a chance that eventually, she would be caught in her lie, and if she had any hope of having any sort of relationship with him — platonic or otherwise — that wouldn’t bode well for the future. How could she nurture a crush if she lied to him from the onset? 

But the other option meant that she would have to let him know that she was, in fact, a student here. She would have to admit to him, he and all his aerospace engineering smarts, that she studied a vocation as shallow as fashion. That while he was probably learning Russian and mathematical equations to travel the universe, she was researching trends for the upcoming fall season. 

Swallowing, she tried to calm her heart, anxiety rushing through her veins. He was looking at her, confusion and even concern, dancing on the features of his beautiful face. 

_ Oh well _ , she thought, mentally saying goodbye to any daydreams and what-ifs; to any future interactions between them at the coffee shop. There was no way she would feel comfortable interacting with him  _ now _ . 

“Um, yeah,” she said, trying to not look as embarrassed as she felt. “We’re going to Bunka. I’m a student there.”

Yamato adjusted the box in his hands. “You’re a student at Bunka?”

“Yep,” Sora said quickly, looking anywhere but him. Time to rip off the bandaid for good. “I’m a Creative Design student.”

Carefully, she looked at Yamato out of the corner of her eye. He was probably thinking that she was some silly fashion girl, who spent her weekends crawling the streets of Harajuku. 

After all, she often did  _ just _ that. 

“Cool,” she heard him respond, “What year are you in?”

Sora’s head shot up. What? That was his reaction? “I’m sorry?”

“What year are you in?” Yamato asked, meeting her eyes, “Isn’t that program supposed to be really demanding? Yohji Yamamoto went here, right?”

“Um, I’m in my fourth year; my final year,” Sora sputtered. Why was he reacting so calmly? ““You know Yohji Yamamoto?”  
  
“My dad’s a producer for Fuji-TV; he’s worked on some profiles and documentaries featuring him,” he glanced back at the building. “I read Hypebeast a lot, too.”

“Oh...Hypebeast’s cool,” she mustered up, feeling breathless. Why was he acting like this was no big deal? He was maybe a genius. This  _ absolutely _ should be beneath him. 

“I like some of the articles,” Yamato shrugged. “It’s a good time killer. Should we go up?”

“Oh!” Sora’s hands flew to her mouth. Her embarrassment of the situation had caused them to be standing outside of the building like lost tourists. He probably had places to go, too. CDs to buy. “Oh, I’m so sorry, yes. We just need to pop it in the studio and then we’ll be good; it will only take a minute.”

The elevator ride was largely silent as Yamato took in the building and Sora tried to go over what had just happened. He had found out she was a fashion student and hadn’t shot her with that patronizing, ‘ _ aww how cute _ ’ look so many men (and women) had given her when she had told them. It hadn’t even seemed like a big deal at all.

_ But he was so smart _ , she thought, he  _ had _ to think this was a little bit silly. 

Even she thought it was a little silly sometimes. 

At least this reaction would allow her to maybe feel a little comfortable going back to the coffee shop. After all, he had said it was cool and expressed an interest in fashion himself. That would explain why he was always so well dressed.    


Of course, reading Hypebeast and having an interest in personal fashion and appearance didn’t necessarily mean that he actually thought what she did was cool. Maybe he was just being nice. Either way, after today, she would not bring it up again. 

Pushing open the door to the studio, Sora flicked on the lips, illuminating the studio. The space was divided into six workstations that she shared with other fourth year Creative Design studios, each separate section covered in fabric and patterns, with mannequins wearing clothing in various states of completion. 

Having him here made her feel like she was naked in front of him. Not even Mimi or Taichi had been in this space; it was where she worked on her most intimate creative projects, where she thought up her most outlandish designs. She had to get them in and out of here as quickly as possible; his subdued reaction did not mean she wanted him to spend any more time in here than needed. 

“We can just drop it over here,” she said as she walked over to her desk, pulling her chair out, Yamato following behind. “I’ll deal with organizing them tomorrow.” 

Yamato nodded, stepping forward and setting the box down on the chair. “Is this where you work?”

“On bigger projects, yes,” Sora said as he looked around. “We’ll work in different classrooms and workshops for different disciplines, but here’s where we work on final pieces and stuff.” She glanced at her desk, her eyes catching on her bonsai. It looked like it needed a trim. 

Glancing back at Yamato, she blanched. Out of all of the pieces in the room, he had made his way over to a set of mannequins wearing kimonos cut into short dresses and tailored into jumpsuits. 

He was staring up at the work-in-progress that made up her final project. 

The exact thing she was hoping to steer him away from. 

Putting his hands in his pockets, Yamato gestured to them with his chin. “What are these?”    


Sora could feel her heart in her throat. Why had he zeroed in on those quickly?! Why couldn’t he be distracted by the heaps of lace in the corner that made up Sophie’s Lolita dresses? Should she just say they were someone else’s?    
  
“Um, that’s my final project,” she heard herself say.  _ God, brain, catch up with the mouth! _   


Yamato’s head snapped over to her. “These are  _ yours _ ?”

Sora nodded, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Was this all just a dream? Just a bad dream? It had to be; things like this didn’t happen in real life; so good and so bad in equal measures.   
  
“Yeah, um, they’re mine.” Stepping over to him, she folded her arms, shrinking into herself. “They’re still a work in progress, but, um, yeah, it’s my final project.”

Yamato looked back at her work. “They sort of look like kimonos, but a little different? Is that what you’re going for? Or am I not getting it?”

Sora smiled and nodded. “No, that’s it. I grew up in a pretty traditional household, so I’m kind of exploring the intersection between old and new in Japanese fashion. Playing with the hemlines and silhouettes while still remaining respectful of the traditional kimono and practice.” She stopped abruptly, feeling embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

Eyes returning back to her work, Yamato shook his head. “No, don’t apologize. I liked hearing about it. So, you made all of these?”

“Um, yeah,” Sora pinched the skin on her elbow; why wouldn’t she wake up from this dream already?! “I drew and built the patterns last semester and have been working on the samples for the last few months; I should be moving into final production soon.”

Yamato nodded. “Wow.”

Sora felt her breath hitch. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just,” Yamato folded his own arms, “they’re really impressive. You designed all these? And then sewed them?”

“I mean, I used a machine—”

“That’s really cool,” Yamato walked around to the other side of the mannequin, examining the back. “That you conceptualized something in your head and made it into something tangible.”

Sora let out a little squeak. “I guess? I mean, it’s not rocket science.”

Yamato glanced over at her and raised his eyebrows. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No!” Sora all but yelped. “Oh, god,  _ no _ , I’m just saying that what you’re studying is  _ impressive. _ What you’re studying is  _ hard _ . This is just,” she waved her had, “it’s just a pile of fabric.”

“A pile of fabric that you put together using your own ideas and your own hands to make art,” he countered. “That still seems impressive to me.”

Sora ducked her head. “It’s apples to oranges, I think,” she said with a soft laugh.

“All I do,” Yamato said seriously, a small smile playing on his lips, “is read a bunch and do a bunch of math. That’s hardly impressive. You’re creating things.”

Wringing her hands together, Sora smiled. She wasn’t quite convinced. “Thanks.”

Turning back to her work, Yamato peered at the soft red obi on a purple kimono. “Is this what that box of fabric is for?” he asked. “Or something else?”

Sora nodded. “Yeah, I’m going to incorporate some of the pieces into obis and accessories. At least, I think. I’m not one-hundred percent sure yet.” 

Yamato tilted his head, examining the green jumpsuit beside the purple kimono. “I always had a feeling that you were into the arts,” he said softly, pulling back and standing straight, “you always gave that vibe.”

At this, Sora’s mouth dropped. “I gave  _ what _ vibe?”

Instantly, Yamato flushed a dark red, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “I mean, not that I thought about it, I just, you know, when you came in, you kind of gave off an artsy vibe. Or, um, you  _ give _ off an artsy vibe. Especially compared to your friends? I, um. Just a vibe. A good one. A good vibe.”

“Oh,” Sora looked down awkwardly. “I see.”

“Sorry,” Yamato said quickly, looking away just as awkwardly. “I like the arts, too. I mean it in a good way.”

Sora waved her hands. “No, no, I didn’t take it in a bad way.”

Yamato glanced up at her, quickly, before looking back at her work. “You’re very talented.”

A rush of warmth spread through Sora. Maybe this had gone okay. “Oh, um, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Yamato gave her a soft smile. “Should we get going? You said you were seeing friends?”

“Oh!” Sora had completely forgotten about drinks; she was definitely going to be a little late and Mimi was _ definitely _ going to kill her. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

x x x

Standing on the sidewalk outside of Bunka, Sora and Yamato faced each other.

“Thanks for all your help,” Sora said. “I really do appreciate it. I’ll suck it up and take a cab the next time.”

“It’s no problem,” Yamato replied. “Happy to help.”

“Well, either way,” Sora laced her fingers together, not sure how to hold herself. “I’ll, um, probably be by for coffee at some point this week.”

Yamato nodded. “See you then, I guess. Hopefully. If I’m working.

“See you then,” Sora said, heart pounding. “Hopefully.”

“Have a good night, Sora-san,” he lifted his hand in a wave.

“You, too, Yamato-san,” she said, watching as he turned to make his way down the street. Letting out a deep breath, she yanked open her purse; she was going to be so late going to Taichi’s. 

Mimi would definitely be less annoyed if she knew that she had been with Yamato, Sora thought as she opened their group chat and began typing a message. Taichi, probably not as much, but there wasn’t a lot she could do about that. 

But Yamato knew that she was a fashion student now and he hadn’t sounded like he thought any less of her. In fact, he had said she was talented. Was it all just posturing? She couldn’t think about it too much; him knowing at all was enough to make her dizzy. 

How had she gone from vowing he would never find out to discussing her final project with him in the same day? 

Hitting send on a message that said she was running a little late, Sora felt a presence in front of her. She glanced up. 

Yamato stood in front of her, a nervous look on this face.

“Hey, Sora-san,” he began.

“Hi, Yamato-san,” she said, her breath catching in her throat. “What’s up?”

“Um, so,” he said slowly, tentatively. “I’m not really supposed to do this.”

Sora frowned. “Do what?” Oh no, was he going to tell her that he had been lying in her studio? That it had all been a prank? 

“Ask out customers,” he explained. “But we’re not at the coffee shop right now, so you’re technically not a customer. So.”

Sora’s throat immediately dried up. Was he _ asking her out _ ? What was happening?! She had been convinced he had a girlfriend.  _ How could he ask her out? _

“You’re asking me out?” she asked quickly, flushing. 

“Yes!” Yamato said just as quickly. “If that’s what you want? Or no! If that’s...what you want. You said that the red haired guy wasn’t your boyfriend.”

“He’s not!” Sora replied hastily. “Just a friend!”

“But maybe you have another boyfriend,” Yamato froze. “I asked about him cause he is the only other guy I’ve seen you with, but that’s me making assumptions. You could have another boyfriend. So—”

“I don’t! Have a boyfriend, that is.”

Relief washed over Yamato’s face. “Oh. Okay. That’s good.”

Sora glanced to the side awkwardly. “So, um, you’re asking me out?”

“Um, yes,” Yamato nodded. “I’m asking you out. What I am saying is, would you like to go get a drink sometime? Or coffee? Not at my store, obviously.”

Oh my god, Sora thought, he really  _ was _ asking her out. 

“I would like that,” she responded shyly. 

“Great!” Yamato said, his voice holding an excited tone she had never heard before. “Um, I mean,  _ great _ . Do you want to exchange numbers? To set something up? I’m sorry, I just have to check my schedule first.”

Sora nodded. “Yes, um, that would be great.”

“Great,” Yamato repeated, “That’s...um, here, put your number into my phone.”

Sliding his phone into her palm, Sora glanced at the background before clicking on the contacts app. It was of a street in what looked like Paris. 

Typing in her contact info quickly, she handed him back his phone. “Text me so I have yours?” she asked. 

Yamato nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll text you shortly.”

“Okay,” Sora agreed, adrenaline rushing through her veins. “Sounds good.”

Slipping his phone into his back pocket, Yamato smiled. “It was good running into you.”

Sora felt a grin work its way across her lips. “It was good running into you, too.”

He raised his hand in a wave and turned to walk away. He did not look back. 

Sora’s phone buzzed and she sighed, looking down at a series of messages from Taichi and Mimi.

“ _ ಠ_ರೃ  _ _ Soraaaaaa where are youuuuu? _ ”   
  
“ _ We’re getting bored!!!  _ _ (๑•̌.•̑๑)ˀ̣ˀ̣ _ ”

“ _ We ordered Pizza Hut and we’re gonna eat all of the good slices without you!  _ _ ( •̀ω•́ )σ _ ”

“ _ You’re only going to have the slices with condensed milk on them!  _ _ ୧(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭ _ ”

Giggling, Sora opened her phone to respond, when a notification for a message from an unknown number popped up along the top of her screen. 

“ _ Hi _ ,” it read, “ _ this is Yamato _ .”

Her heart all but stopped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyy, more author's notes! A few things: 
> 
> • Because I am insane, I have mapped out all of the locations in this fic on a Google Map, divided by chapter. It can be found here: https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?mid=19iZ9vxVd9OKXnlTBWJaxOUQbsDqe7J8B&usp=sharing (Please look at it, I even picked out apartments, it took a long time lol plz) 
> 
> • Another reason this took so long was because I debated switching to Yamato's POV. I decided against this, because this is not just a Sorato fic, it's a *Sora* fic. But I did want to have some fun with Yamato. So, because as noted above, I am really insane, I made a Spotify account for him. Find a bunch of playlists that will let you in on Yamato's daily life (and some hints to his backstory) here: https://open.spotify.com/user/x61p0f1i8m3d236d0fvylft2n I'll update these as the fic progresses. 
> 
> • This entire story stems from me wondering what the conversation between Sora and Yamato must have been like when he told her he was going to pursue being an astronaut. Personally, I'm mega disappointed that there has been zero acknowledgement of *just how smart* Yamato must be. Like, why isn't this a canon thing? Make it happen @ writers of DA: 2020. 
> 
> • I head-canon that Yamato has great game with every male and female he comes across, but zero when it comes to Sora. Cause it's *Sora*. 
> 
> • To ladder off of that, all information surrounding requirements for studying aerospace engineering have once again been researched by me. Which means things might be wrong! :D
> 
> • I also know nothing about coding, so if the conversation Koushiro is having with Miyako makes no sense, well, I tried? If someone does know things about coding and would like to suggest dialogue that would make more sense here, I'm all for it! 
> 
> • There are some details here concerning Bunka where I have taken some liberties. Firstly, I don't know 100% if they have a final show. I have seen mentions of 'show days' and 'shows', but haven't found exact information of a cumulative end of program event. I also do not know the actual layout of Bunka Fashion College and I have no idea if a studio of sorts for students to work in exists. I would assume??? something??? along those lines??? But I don't know and at this point, I'm just going to let myself have this. 
> 
> • I will not lie, it has been a while since I've watched episodes with Sora interacting with Toshiko and Haruhiko. But I tried to create this as a dynamic that would be bred given that Sora has never had that 'Aha! It's not that my mom doesn't understand me, it's that she cares about me!' moment she had in the original adventure because *Piyomon does not exist*. Writing AUs is so hard, why did I do this to myself?
> 
> • In terms of Yamato's reaction (or non-reaction) to Sora's major, Bunka is actually a really competitive, really demanding school. While it has fallen from the ranks it was in in the early 2000s, it still is an incredible technical school, with impressive alumni including not only Yohji Yamamoto, but Kenzo Takada and Junya Watanabe. To someone like Yamato who is into the arts (and is canonically the ONLY ONE WHO CAN DRESS ON THIS SHOW IMHO), this would obviously be seen as cool. A lot of Sora's insecurity stems from other things. More on that later. 
> 
> OK! That's it! I'll try to update sooner this time, but truthfully, I have looming, terrible deadlines coming up from now until October 9th, sooo. Hard to say.


End file.
